Painter Of The Wind : Of Ink And Song
by ObsGryph
Summary: The continuing journey of Shin Yunbok and Jeonghyang
1. Chapter 1

_Author note : This fanfic is based on the 2008 Korean saguek Painter Of The Wind, adapted from the novel of the same title written by Lee Jeong-myeong. POTW is loosely based on a few historical persons well known for their art in the Choson Dynasty. Hyewon Shin Yunbok and Danwon Kim Hongdo. Both men were two of Three Wons in the art world. In the fictional novel, Yunbok was not a man but a woman, forced under circumstances beyond her control, to assume the guise of a man. In this guise, she faced many trials and questions._

_Please note that if you have not viewed or are not a Painter of the Wind / 5 coin fan, the following story might/will not make much sense. Too, I am using Korean references at most times and will try to provide explanations._

_I originally started this fanfic on 12th Nov 2009 and completed it on 8th Dec that same year. The original blueprint was posted in one of the English MGY fan sites. I went on to write four more stories, began on the sixth before I abandoned it. All five stories had undergone a few revisions. This current version I'm posting is the fourth revision I'm doing for the first story. Why so many revisions? POTW is the first fanfic I ever attempted and isn't the last. I'm currently working on a game based fanfic, under a different nick, that is now reaching 74 chapters. As I go along, I inevitably learned and made some improvements in writing but definitely by no means on the level with other writers. I still have a lot to learn. Hence, I looked back with a critical eye on my first piece of work and felt I could do better. _

_I have very little contact with Korean customs and social nuances. What I put here are the small bits I have gleaned from watching saguek and reading various references. I'll try my best not to wander too far out. To keep myself oriented, I am referring to Yunbok as a 'he' and will only use 'she' in special sections. This first story began a few years after Yunbok left Hanseong. Since POTW ended with no choices, I opted to choose the one path I feel that suited the char. My thanks to all who dropped in to take a look._

_Additional note. Someone commented that I put it under the 'M' category. I did so because I want to play it safe than sorry. I did not put it under any story genre either because it has a little of everything.  
_

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**Hanno 1781**

As dusk rapidly descended into the shadows of night, the temperature began to drop like a falling stone. Puffs of smoke streamed away as a man made his way up the undulating trail. Peering ahead as he leaned on his staff, he tried to estimate how far he had to go before he would have to stop for the night. To his dismay, the trail continued to meander on. A white cloud ballooned around him as he sighed. He should have stopped for the night at the mountain village he passed earlier but overconfidence and anxiety had pressed him on under the illusion that he would be able to reach the temple before nightfall. With the passage of the sun, his burdens had grown heavier and heavier and had slowed him down considerably.

He heaved another sigh as he considered his choices. Either he continued to walk up the trail in the darkness and hoped to reach the temple or he could stop and harboured the noncturnal creatures of the night as his bosom bedmates. Continuing on felt like the better idea. There was the moon to keep him company. He yawned and forced himself to move his aching feet. In the distance, something screeched faintly. A strange weird pitch that wavered high and low. An owl? A good or bad omen? He twisted his lips wryly. There came another screech followed by howls. He stopped short, listening intently. If there were wild animals about, he had best be on his guard. Another howl sounded. It didn't sound like any animal he knew. Then realization hit him like a flash, he began to run and soon vanished up the trail.

Far up the trail, a man shouted, "Run! Get away!"

Young-joon flicked frantic glances to the women behind him as he desperately tried to fend off the blows from the two men trying to flank him. He thrusted his torch at their faces as they moved in. Jumping back, they retreated a few paces, watching him warily even as they inched forward again. He dared not take his eyes off them even as his skin prickled in fear at the thought of the third man circling in at his back. It would not take long for the three men to overwhelm him. There was no other who could help; he cast a quick despairing glance at the fallen servants further down the trail, wishing they had regained consciousness. If he fell to the robbers, what would happen to his cousin? The worst he could not bear to think of. After they were done, for certain, she and her maid would be killed and thrown aside like rubbish.

Anger took hold of him. No. Not if he could help it. He was not going down alone. One. At least one, before he was incapcitated. His knuckles whitened as he readied himself to rush. Which would it be? His eyes flicked between the two men before him.

Kyoung-mi pulled at her maid's hand, willing her to stop her whimpering cries. If there was a chance, they had to do what Young-joon wanted. She doubted they would get very far if the robbers chased them but if her suspicion was right, they would be too busy to bother with two helpless women. Hopefully. She eyed the third robber who was reaching the position to strike at Young-joon's vulnerable back. One good strike and her cousin would go down, never to rise again. The one-sided fight inflamed her, she knew it was folly but she was not going to stand idly by to watch her cousin struck down in a hopeless battle.

Taking hold of a fallen package beside her, it took her some effort for it was heavy, and threw it at the third robber. He grunted in pain as it struck him on his shoulder and glared in her direction. He had been happy to ignore her thus far but now, his attention was on her. How dared she strike at him? Snarling at her interference, he took quick steps to her, the club in his hand rising as she glared defiantly at him. The maid screamed in terror as the club descended but then it did not reach its target. The club flew from the robber's hand. Shocked, he stared behind her. A shout and she blinked as a shadow came between her and the robber. A flurry of thuds and the next thing she knew, the robber was lying unconscious on the ground. She stared in astonishment and looked up. It was not a shadow but a stranger armed with a staff.

The maid's scream had distracted Young-joon and he gasped in pain as one of the two robbers took advantage and darted in to score a hit on his abdomen with his club. Gritting his teeth, he bore the pain and swung his torch wildly to keep them away. Then out of nowhere, someone appeared and moved up beside him. The third robber? What foolishness to move so close to him! Before Young-joon could attempt to burn him, the man leapt forward, staff whirling at speed. Not expecting such resistance, the robbers tried their best to parry but their weapons were bashed from their hands and they themselves were knocked down to the ground.

Stunned, Young-joon watched dumbly as the strange fellow knelt down beside the groaning robbers, seeming to be checking them for injuries. Standing up, he turned to face him, his mouth moving. With a start, Young-joon realized the young man, for he could see him more clearly now, was addressing him.

"Are you all right?"

"..am I..," Young-joon blinked before shaking himself out of his shock. "Yes, yes, I wasn't expecting...I mean," he looked at the robbers and then at the young man in amazement. How had a slight fellow, three fingers span shorter than him had taken down three men in so such a short span of time? Why, he looked as if a strong brush of wind would blow him away! And yet, Young-joon almost did a double take when he saw the package strapped to his back. He fought with that on his back? Realizing he was gawking like a fool, Young-joon suddenly remembered his manners. "May I inquire as to our deliverer's identity?" he bowed.

"I'm fortunate to be able to help," said the young man. "I'm Seo Yong. Are you on the way to the temple?"

"Mr Seo, a thousand jeol would not be enough to repay you for your kind valorous deed," Young-joon said gratefully. "I'm Han Young-joon of Hansang and I am escorting my cousin," he gestured to Kyoung-mi who was still sitting dumbfounded on the ground, "to the temple to deliver our annual donations when we were set upon by these robbers."

Yun-bok looked at the packages strewned on the ground, the horse that stood blinking placidly nearby and nodded thoughtfully.

"Are those are your servants?" he pointed to the two bodies back down the trail.

"Yes they are," Young-joon eyed the bodies with both anxiety and annoyance. "These robbers came on us unexpectedly so they were knocked unconscious in the first attack, which left me to fend off these three."

"I'll check them out, you have better see to your cousin."

Young-joon stood stock still in surprise as Yun-bok walked easily down the trail. Was he not tired at all? He gazed after him, vastly intrigued. Shaking his head, he made his way over to his cousin who was talking softly to the maid still snivelling away.

"That was a foolish thing to do, Kyoung-miya." he scolded. "You should have run when I told you to."

"What? And leave you with all the fun?" she retorted facetiously. "Will you stop crying, Heon-sook. You're safe now." she shook the maid gently, trying to snap her out of it. Young-joon looked up as Yunbok came back with two sheepish servants. Their grimaces of guilt and shifting eyes betrayed their cowadice. Clearly, they had regained consciousness a while ago but had continued to lay on the ground out of fear. Young-joon found their behaviour deplorable. Would they have continued to play dead if the robbers had their way with the women? As if realising they were under censure, they dared not meet his eyes.

"Is your cousin all right?" Yun-bok asked solicitously, seeing that she was still sitting on the ground. A red flush crept up her face though he could not see it in the amber glow of the torch but she did not speak. Instead she nudged Heon-sook who had to clear her throat before answering.

"We're fine. We just need a little rest."

That assurance appeared to satisfy him. Turning to Young-joon, Yunbok gestured to his head. "Both of your servants suffered knocks to the head but should be able to continue with the journey. They should rest a full day tomorrow." A moan from the ground near them caught his attention and he looked down at the third robber curled up into a ball, cradling his arm. Frowning, he bent to examine him, carefully feeling the limb. Broken but a clean break. Looking searchingly around, he went off the trail before returning with a short branch stripped of leaves. Using it as a splint, he bound up with the arm using strips of cloth torn from the robber's jeogori. He looked up to see everyone staring at him with fascination.

"Don't you want to continue on to the temple?" he asked pragmatically. "We should bring along these three as well."

"What?! Why?" Kyoung-mi said angrily, forgetting herself as she brushed down her chima as she finally stood up, taking the jangot from Heon-sook.

Declining to point out the obvious, Young-joon only said, "Yes, we should do so." Turning to the servants, he said. "You and you, tie up the other two. Then get the horse over here and pick up all the packages."

"Can you stand up?" Yun-bok said to the erstwhile robber with the broken arm.

"Yes...yes, thank you..sir," the man replied, grateful for the hand Yun-bok extended to him. He stared down at his feet with shame and dejection.

Shifting the bundles on his back to try to get more comfortable, Yunbok silently cursed the extra load he had to carry along with his belongings. The rope had cut into him painfully during the fight. If anything, he would have thrown them off before the engagement. Ha but then master Suk-kwon would have him running the wood trail for the next month. Even though he was far away, his master always had a nose for sniffing out secrets and he wasn't about to make more trouble for himself. Sighing softly, he helped to gather up the packages. The maid looked at him timidly as he handed them over, as if afraid he would bite or something. What a fainhearted lass.

By the time all the packages were collected, the other two robbers had regained consciousness to stand on their feet. After rekindling the torches that had gone out, Young-joon made sure Kyoung-mi was secured on the horse before setting off. One of the servants wavered uncertainly as he took a step and the burden on his back swayed. Yunbok thought he was probably still suffering the effects of the blow. Rather than have the servant falling over, spilling packages and picking them up, Young-joon elected to carry the packages himself despite protests from Kyoung-mi and had the servant light the way instead with the torches. Yun-bok brought up the rear with the three woebegone robbers. Close up, he examined them keenly, noting the raggedness of their clothing and the gauntness of their frames. Improvished peasants from the look of it. Where were their families?

Ahhh, but he was so tired. He could look into the problem on the morrow. That was, if they could all reach the temple. After another hour or so of trudging up the trail, the dark shape of a pagoda and lights could be seen in the distance, getting brighter and brighter. In the light of the torches, Young-joon was tiring visibly and Kyoung-mi could see he was struggling. Well so he should, he was the scion of a good family, not a poor laborer. It was magnanimous of him to help.

"Samjong, put the packages on the horse. You are not used to this kind of work," she said, glancing at the approaching shape of the temple pagoda. It would not do for him to arrive in such a manner.

"No, I'm all right," Young-joon tried to straighten his back. Let it not be said he had not the strength to carry a simple load.

"Look, we are getting near the temple. It should only be a short walk, please, let me get down." Kyoung-mi said reasonably. "I also need to stretch my legs."

"She is right, master Han," Yun-bok said. He too, could see that the young man would not be able to hold up for long. "I think it is better if we just put all the packages on the horse to lighten everyone's burden."

"Indeed you're right," Young-joon capitulated for his shoulders were aching painfully and deposited his load on the ground as Heon-sook followed suit. As there were no loading racks, the servants carefully unwound a few of the ropes that bound the packages, arranged them in two lots before tying them up again and putting them on the horse. Young-joon exchanged places with the servant who was carrying the torches and they set off again. Eventually, they reached the Iljumun. The stone path sloped upwards and led to the steep flight of stairs leading up to the main courtyard of the temple. One of the servants led the horse to the trail winding up to the temple while the rest took the stairs.

There were no other light except their torches. It was hard to see and Kyoung-mi tried to be careful. Even so, her foot missed a step. She stumbled and gave a little scream as she fell backwards. Surely she would cut her head on the sharp edges of the stones. Heon-sook turned at her cry, her hands reaching out to grab Kyoung-mi but missed. In horror, she watched as her mistress slipped away. Only to fetch up against the young man who had come to their aid. Hands on Kyoung'mi's upper arms steadied her and she found herself looking up at Yun-bok who quickly pushed her upright.

"Be careful," he said and looked at Heon-sook. "Hold on to your mistress's hand, it's not safe to walk up these steep steps in the dark." Embarrassed at her failure to perform her duty properly, so eager was she to reach the temple in anticipation of shelter and rest, Heon-sook quickly took hold of her mistress's hands.

"I'm sorry, mistress," she apologized, hastily moving to Kyoung-mi's side to support her.

"It's fine." Kyoung-mi said abstractedly, nerves tingling from the contact with Yun-bok and her momentarily fright. They continued to climb. Eventually, they reached the temple courtyard. By then, legs were shaking from the long haul up the long flight of steps.

"Are you all right?" Yun-bok moved to support a shaky Young-joon as he staggered to a stop.

"Just a little tired." His legs were quivering so much that Young-joon thought he would fall flat on his face and was grateful for Yun-bok's supporting hand, envying his acquaintance's strength and stamina.

"Evening service has just ended," Yun-bok said, looking at the dharma hall where monks could be seen filing out. Noting the visitors in the courtyard, three monks approached them. Seeing them, Young-joon made an effort to straighten.

"Amit'a Bul," the monks bowed.

"Amit'a Bul," Young-joon said, bowing back. "I am here to deliver our annual donations on behalf of my family. My cousin also wishes to spend a day in meditation and prayers. I request the hospitality of the temple, if I may."

"Indeed, it is our honour to offer it, master Han." The leading monk with a kashaya replied. "I am Venerable Jae-seung. The kindness and generosity of your gifts is much appreciated and will provide much relief to the needy. Please, brother Jung-won will show where your cousin will stay." One of the monks moved towards Kyoung-mi who bowed her thanks. Casting a quick glance at Yun-bok which he did not notice, she followed the monk to the guest quarters with Heon-sook closed at her heels.

Stepping up respectfully to Jae-seung, Yunbok said,"Venerable Jae-seung, my master has sent me with a new type of paper for your perusal." He could hardly wait to to be rid of the extra weight. Definitely, it was one of his master's sly ways of testing his endurance when he could have sent one of his colleagues instead. A clatter of hooves announced the horse's arrival at the coutryard.

"Oh! We have been anticipating this new sample he mentioned in his letter," Jae-seung smiled at Yun-bok, eyes alight. "My brother here will take charge of the pape." At his gesture, the other monk stepped forward to take the paper load from Yun-bok. "But come, you must be tired after such a journey. Please, join us for the evening meal." He turned away and then stopped as he noticed the tied up haggard looking trio standing behind the two young men. "They are...?"

"They attacked us on the way here," Young-joon explained as Yun-bok released the men. "I believe something can be done for the injuries they have suffered. My servants are also wounded and could also use some medical care."

"This one has a broken arm," Yun-bok pulled the gravely injured man forward. "The other two have bruises and knocks to the head."

"I see," Jae-seung nodded, hardly surprised to hear of the attack. "We will dress their wounds and send them on in the morning. Brother, please show these men and master Han's servants to the medical hall."

"Blessings of Buddha on you, sirs," the three men bowed repeatedly to Yun-bok and Young-joon before stumbling after the monk and the servants. Smiling, Jae-seung gestured to the young men to follow him. By the time Yun-bok was shown his room, he was ready to collapse, he was utterly exhausted. After putting the staff away carefully in the corner, he tossed his own pack and gat onto the low desk in the room before lying on the floor in total relief. Every bone in his body seemed to ache. His feet were going to develop blisters, they hurt! Master Suk-kwon was a real slave driver, the journey to the temple was worse than the wood gathering expeditions. That stack of papers was probably the weight of two horses. Tired, he was so tired. His eyelids drooped.

"Excuse me, may I come in?" said a voice outside the door. Yun-bok groaned, he just wanted to roll over and sleep. Nevertheless he got up and opened the door to see brother Jung-won with a basin of water and a towel. Ahh, he could really use a wash.

"Much appreciated," Yun-bok bowed his thanks as the Jung-won placed them on top of the bandaji.

"Please refresh yourself. Venerable Jae-seung awaits you, I'll show you where he is when you're ready." Jung-won turned to go and stopped when Yun- bok put up a hand.

"Brother Jung-won, do you know when those three men would be leaving tomorrow? I would like to have a word with them."

"I believe they would leave after morning service but I'll tell them you would like to speak to them," Jung-won did not show any surprise that Yun-bok would want to speak to the robbers. Not overly curious, Yun-bok supposed.

"Yes, that will be fine."

Removing his winter tosi, he bent over the basin and splashed water on his face. It was refreshing and he felt better but Yun-bok suspected that he would be snoozing off halfway through dinner, which would be extremely rude to his host. He had never felt so tired in his life. He heaved a sigh and straightened himself. Best to get it over with, then he would get a good night's sleep until late morning. But no, he slapped himself in dismay as he remembered. There was the pre-dawn service to attend. Oh why oh why did his master had to send him to the temple?

One thing at a time, one thing at a time. Heaving a sigh, he straightened his weary shoulders. Putting on his gat, he went out of the room and followed Jung-won to one of the small reception rooms off the main hall, where Young-joon and Venerable Jae-seung were waiting for him. His nose twitched at the aroma of hot food. Dinner was simple fare of rice, soup and seasoned vegetables but it tasted like ambrosia to both Yun-bok and Young-joon who were very hungry from their exertions.

"Mr Seo, where did you learn to fight?" Young-joon asked curiously, once the remnants of dinner was cleared away and they sat sipping their tea.

"Fight?" Yun-bok laughed deprecatingly. He had not fallen asleep after all as he had feared although he really desperately needed to rest. "I'm afraid my master would say I was dancing rather than fighting," he shook his head. "The element of surprise is always a turning factor in any struggle. Circumstances were to my advantage, I'm afraid I have no real skills at fighting."

"You're too modest." In the clearer light of the oil lamps, Young-joon was surprised to find that although his companion had the complexion of someone who worked outdoors, his features were fine and delicate. Or perhaps delicate wasn't right but he did look somewhat vulnerable and boyish. How old was he, he wondered. "If you had not come as you did, I have no doubt my life would be forfeited or worse, I would be seriously injured. My cousin would have been at their mercy. I shudder to think what might befall her if it were so." Hastily, he pushed aside the morbid thoughts and raised his cup to Yun-bok. "As parched earth welcomes the rain, Mr Seo, mere gratitude does not suffice. If you do not mind, I hope to have the honor to call you friend and brother. Brother Seo."

"It is my honour, brother Han." Yun-bok returned the toast. Jae-seung looked on benignly as the two young men sealed their friendship with another toast.

"You must be a new apprentice at the paper mill. How is master Park nowadays?" he asked Yun-bok.

"Not really a new apprentice, Venerable. I've been with master Park for three seasons now," Yun-bok answered respectfully. "My master is in fine fettle when I left him."

"Yes, I should hope so," Jae-seung laughed, thinking of his past encounters with Suk-kwon. "What samples did he send with you?"

"My master has recently been experimenting and refining the fiber processing stage to produce thinner sheets of paper. He is keen to know if they would be suitable for the production of books," explained Yun-bok as he recalled the finicky fuss and days of backbreaking work his master had inflicted on everyone at the paper mill in his experiments.

"Hmm, thinner sheets." Jae-seung frowned. "Durability has always been the criterion in selection. If the new paper passed the test, more resources can be conserved. The King's continual effort to educate the masses has greatly increased the demand for books. If this new type of paper works out, it will greatly enhance productivity," his eyes wrinkled as he considered the possibilities.

"That is the thought of master Park, sir," Yun-bok said.

"We'll have a look tomorrow," he paused and seemed to think. "As it is, has there been much turmoil in Uiryeong lately?" he smiled at the young men's incomprehension. "There has been an influx of the needy coming to the temple. We learnt a great number people in other provinces have been displaced due to the catastrophic effects of the earthquake."

"I'm afraid I have no information on that," Yun-bok said apologetically. "I have not been to the town for quite some time but there was no trouble in the hamlet where I stayed."

"Uiryeong is relatively quiet at the moment," put in Young-joon. "But I am hearing reports of crop failures and displacements. My father will have news of recent developments when he returns."

"Please do let me know if there are changes. For now, it's best that you have your rest." Young-joon and Yun-bok got up deferentially as Jae-seung took his leave before making their way back to their rooms, declining the guide of Jung-won as Young-joon was familiar with the temple layout. It was almost third watch. Yun-bok could barely stifled a yawn, he was looking forward to a few hours of sleep and then shivered for it was dreadfully cold. He thought longingly of his heated room and bedding.

"You work at a paper mill, brother Seo?" Young-joon looked at the bright moon, wishing he could have some warm wine to enjoy this autumn night.

"At a village along a keulikeumal about three miles east outside Uiryeong," Yun-bok was having similar thoughts. "What about you, brother Han?"

"Oh, my family is in merchantising, specialising in distribution of various goods in Uiryeong and other towns. We are located near each other, brother Seo." Young-joon was delighted at this. "It will be easy to visit. Is your family staying at the village too?"

"No, I have no family in the village. I'm staying by myself at the house by the paper mill."

Young-joon was not surprised to hear that his friend lived alone; he hardly looked like a married man. He was certain he could not be much older than he himself and there was every probability that brother Seo was a younger son, forced to leave home for some reason before he settled down. One or two of his friends who were younger sons, were tossed out for one reason or another, mostly due to their intractable characters and reputations that brought much grief to their families. However, he did not think brother Seo was such a person. Too, judging from his speech, accent and cultivated air, he was most likely a scholar: a Yangban or Jungin?

"My father is currently sourcing for available paper mills to fill the demand for paper. I don't believe he has a business contract with master Suk-kwon," he said.

"Master Park supplies mainly to the nearby temple and the smaller retailers in other outback villages," Yunbok explained.

"Oh, but does he not have any contracts with merchants in Uiryeong?" Young-joon was surprised at the unusual setup.

"Ah, I know what you mean," Yun-bok understood his bewilderment at how his master ran his paper mill. "As paper is a main staple of our daily lives since we used it in almost everything around us, my master desires to make the supply of paper readily available and cheaply to the poorer people. The main bulk of our paper, which are mostly medium grade, is set aside for this purpose. He sells the high grade papers directly to the government contract he has in Hanseong."

"I see. Your master is a magnanimous and astute man," Young-joon was impressed. "Would he take up a contract with us, do you think?" he paused at the inner couryard to look at the moon.

"... wouldn't it be good to have wine," muttered Yun-bok as he followed Young-joon's gaze, his thoughts faraway. A moonlit night, two people of one heart and yet at odds. A shattered night, full of pain, guilt and regrets. Forget, forget. He wished to forget, it seemed so long ago and yet he never seemed able to let it go. Always, always, he would think of her. Where was she now?

"What's that?" Young-joon grinned. "I was just thinking about that, Brother Seo. A bottle of warm wine to accompany this night blessed with the moon so bright and fair."

"Unfortunately, a bottle of wine will permanently incapacitate me and that will be rude to our brother monks here if I miss morning service," Yun-bok laughed, coming back to the present. "But regards your

question. I believe my master may accept a contract with your father if he offers it. I can't gauranteed it though."

"Then, I will discuss it with my father when I get home," Young-joon promised.

They stopped outside Yun-bok's room, ot his relief; he was ready to drop. "Goodnight brother Han."

"Goodnight brother Seo, I'll come by later to make sure you attend morning service. No worries," Young-joon grinned cheekily before making for his own room.

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Korean Words

_Bandaji - cabinet_  
_Chima - skirt_  
_Jeogori - jacket_  
_Jeol - bow of respect_  
_Keulikeumal - river / stream / creek_  
_Tosi - wristlet_


	2. Chapter 2

**Hanno 1781**

Morning came too fast for Yunbok. Sitting in the prayer hall for morning service, he tried to stay awake. It didn't help that the droning of prayers was a hypnotic spell, inviting him to lay down and sleep. Beside him, Young-joon was no better; his head a wavering see-saw that swung up and down. Gripping a fold of skin under his sleeve, Yunbok pinched himself now and then. Better a little pain than the utter disgrace of falling flat on his face in a place of worship. Thankfully, it worked and he stayed awake for the whole service. He nudged Young-joon to get to his feet when it was over. Somehow or other, his friend managed to stay upright.

They broke fast on simple fare before following Jae-seung to the printing room where the monks were already hard at work. Stacked on a table at the terrace was the pile of papers that Yunbok had brought. Here, the monk in charge of printing handed a freshly printed paper to Jae-seung who held it up to the light as Yun-bok and Young-joon waited for his verdict even as they tried not to grimace and sneeze at the overwhelming smell of metal, oil, paper and ink.

"Hmmm, it looks fine as it is," Venerable Jae-seung said, folding amd unfolding the paper many times, giving it experimental hard tugs before deliberately dipping it into a dish of water on the table. He watched carefully as the water dilute the ink and smiled at the result. "I'll give you my answer to master Suk-kwon. In the meantime, Mr Seo, I believe you have an appointment with brother Jung-won."

"Excuse me, Venerable. An appointment?" Yunbok was puzzled. Other than a quick meeting with the injured men, he did not recall having made any further arrangements with the monk.

"Yes indeed. Your master had mentioned that he wished to test your skills against brother Jung-won." Jae-seung smiled at Yunbok's dismay. "I'll send for him. If you would like to wait at the main hall?"

"If it's not too much trouble, Venerable, I'll like to take another look at the printing process instead of waiting at the hall," said Yunbok.

"I too would like to understand the process more thoroughly, Venerable," Young-joon added.

"I'll inform brother Jung-won to seek you here," said Jae-seung, well pleased that they desired to learn.

"Does your master often do that to you?" asked Young-joon curiously once the monk had left.

Heaving a sigh, Yunbok turned to survey the room. "Unfortunately, yes. Every day, as a matter of fact. As if I've not enough chores already at the paper mill, he insisted that I practised with the staff daily."

"Really?" Young-joon eyed his friend from head to toe. "That would explain why you took those men down so quickly but," he added quickly before Yunbon could rebut him, "how is it that you looked ready to float away with the wind?"

Instead of taking offense, Yunbok only looked away. With just a few words, his friend would understand why he never looked as robust or hefty as other men. And never could. But then, he never would so why bother explaining? "I am what my parents made me," he said finally. "But time is pressing on."

"Most certainly," Young-joon agreed and followed Yunbok back into the printing room.

They strolled along the aisles, watching the various processing stations closely. A few monks in a corner were arranging and setting the metal types for a new book. The number of types was astounding to behold. They stared at the tiers and rows of trays that stretched across the room and could not help asking how many there were. 150, 000 copper Jeong-yu ja, the monks answered amicably, not looking up from their tasks. One of them looked up and grinned at their amazement. He brought them over to one of the trays in the corner, showing them a lead type as he explained. Types varied and changed, initially it was wood, bamboo, gourd, clay before metals were used. Clay was much favoured because of their durability though the printed results were not pleasing. It was also what the printing peddlars preferred but the number of characters they could carry was limited. Despite the constraint, they were able to satisfy their customers' needs. Hangeul and Chinese characters also varied with each new revision. The least was just in tens of thousands. The greatest was 300,000 during Seongjong's reign.

Impressed, they wandered over to watch the application of ink, the placement of the paper onto the arranged metal prints, the pressure exerted and spreading of printed sheets to dry. The assembly was a complicated affair which involved much folding, hammering and glueing before the covers were placed on the binded pages and sewn with red string. So much work! Yun-bok picked up a completed book and flipped through it. As careful and diligent as the monks were, still, there were minor defects among the pages. Replacing the book, he observed the printing process with Young-joon.

"Do you know, I heard that Tibetan monks do not use metal types," Yun-bok commented as he spotted a few pages with smeared ink. Large blotches could be seen on a couple and a monk was carefully cleaning out the clogged metal type that was the cause of the blemished pages.

"Theyr'e using wooden types then," Young-joon peered at a printed sheet. The ink had run a little, causing tiny blotches.

"Yes, I also heard that since they print religious books, they would discard any wooden type, paper or printed samples that showed any errors. Even if it is slight."

"Aigoo, they're so fastidious," Young-joon's eyes widened. "How did you come to know about that?"

"From master Park, he was speaking of printing methods sometime back. To the Tibetans, the religious books are sacred, hence, they wished to preserve the sanctity and purity of Buddhism. Not the slightest mistake is tolerated."

"Oh but what a waste of materials," Young-joon exclaimed.

Yunbok shook his head. "No. My master said they were also very careful to a fault during the printing process."

"Is he...," Young-joon wondered how was it his friend's master knew so much.

"Brother Seo." a voice interrupted.

They turned to see Jung-won behind them. "Oh well, looks like I have to go. I'll see you later brother Han." Yun-bok hoped he would still be standing around then. He had little illusions about his own ability against the monk. Young-joon would have gone with him but the sight of the books gave him the idea that he should look for a book his father would like.

"Later, brother Seo. Do your best!" he encouraged heartily as his friend turned to go. Yun-bok could only shake his head helplessly back at him.

* * *

Holding on to Heon-sook's hand, Kyoung-mi made her way slowly along the stone path from the prayer hall. After spending so many hours in prayers, her legs hurt and she could only hobble along carefully as slowly, the numbness disappeared. Pausing for a moment, she closed her eyes and breathed in the air. Ahh, how cool and refreshing it was, this mountain air infused with the bloom of flowers. Although her home was far from the bustle and hustle of the crowds in town, still, the air here was different. Smiling, she continued on and halted again in puzzlement when the faint sound of thwacking wood came to her ears.

"Do you hear that?"

"Yes, mistress," quivered Heon-sook as she looked around fearfully. The sounds reminded of the frightening night and she wished it would go away.

Looking around her, Kyoung-mi tried to discern where it was coming from and finally realized the sounds were coming from the inner courtyard of the guest wing allocated for the men. Curious to know what was going on, she began to make her way in that direction, ignoring the tugs on her sleeve as her horrified maid tried to get her to turn around.

"Mistress, no," Heon-sook pulled harder.

"Be quiet," Kyoung-mi scolded with a whisper even as her eyes darted around. There was no one in sight and she stepped on the short flight of stairs to the corridor.

"Mistress, we can't go in there," Heon-sook was horrified by the inappropriateness of her mistress's action and tugged again. She let go immediately when Kyoung-mi fixed an annoyed stare at her.

Moving like ghosts in shadow, Kyoung-mi glided through the corridor and came to a stop when the inner courtyard appeared and there found the source of the noise. She watched as two men sparred with their staffs. One was a monk. The other was that young man, Mr Seo. In the fullness of daylight, she could see how dark he was but his features were fine. Clearly, he had spent most of the time outdoors. He couldn't be a military man, his frame was slight. A peasant? But then, there was that air of confidence and cultivation about him and his speech had marked him as a learned man. Plainly he did not belong in the lower class. Her brows beetled as she tried to puzzle it out.

As she continued to watch, the fluid and graceful sparring strikes began to fascinate her. Martial arts was not new to her. Sometimes she would sit by the window when Young-joon practised his sword play but he was more of a lone tiger scratching at the wooden post. These two men, however, was a different story. It was like a flowing dance, the swirl of sleeves and coat, the play between them as they tried to find weaknesses in the other to score a touch. It was then she realized she was watching two masters of the staff. Like a magnet drawn to metal, her eyes fastened themselves to the younger man.

Yunbok tried not to feel intimidated but Jung-won was proving to be more than he could handle. The monk was so much more agile and adept with the staff than he was and he had already lost count of how many times the other had scored touches on him. If they had been really serious, he would have been incapacitated with several broken bones. Sweat trickled down his face as he evaded a thrust and revolved his own staff for a parry before realising he had made a mistake. With a lightning screw of the staff and a hook, Jung-won disarmed him. However, that was not the end of it.

Kyoung-mi bit back a gasp as the staff went flying and the monk went in for the kill. However, Yunbok's hands went out to grasp to the staff as it came down, following the direction it meant to go instead of deflecting it. Pivoting like lightning, he swiftly hooked his foot behind the calf of Jung-won's right leg while applying additional force to the staff. It sprang out of Jung-won's hands as he fell. Yunbok stared down at him in amazement; he didn't think the counter would work. Jung-won smiled and got up.

"That was a good recovery, brother Seo," he bowed.

"You're too kind, I was lucky," Yunbok sighed, returning the bow as he blotted away the sweat from his face with his sleeve. "You're too good for me, brother Jung-won. I'm completely beaten."

"But the purpose of the spar is not a matter of deciding the victor," Jung-won picked up the fallen staffs and handed Yunbok his own. "Your master wishes to measure your defensive ability against an unknown skilled opponent. I shall inform Venerable Jae-seung that you have exceeded your master's expectations."

"Oh my, exceeded? That is high praise, brother." Yunbok said in disbelief, shaking his head. Surely the monk was joking?

"But you're too modest, you are still standing, are you not?" Jung-won grinned.

"Please, just say I passed the test. I'm afraid my master will set unrealistic goals for me if he should know I stand so high in your regard," begged Yun-bok humorously as Jung-won laid aside his staff and offered a cup of tea to Yun-bok from a tray he had prepared.

"As you say, brother Seo." Jung-won finished his own cup of tea. "When will you be setting off?"

"I will leave as soon as Venerable Jae-seung gives me his reply," Yun-bok returned his cup to the tray, grateful for the tea; his throat had been very dry.

"I see. I will not be able to see you off."

"It is all right. I have taken up much your time with this lesson," Yun-bok bowed his thanks. "By the way, brother Jung-won, can you tell me the way to the pavilion? I noticed there is one overlooking the hill last night."

"You have sharp eyes, brother Seo. Come, I'll show you." Jung-won waited patiently as Yun-bok gathered his packed belongings he had put aside and led the way out through the other side of the courtyard, not noticing the women in the shadows.

Staring after them, Kyoung-mi debated for a moment, then pulled at her maid to follow the two men as they left. Heon-sook sighed. She did not know what her mistress was up to, but she had a bad feeling about it. If only young master was around, he would soon put a stop to this but she did not know where he was. Reluctantly, she followed the young woman. Keeping to the shadows, they crept after the two men and stopped when the monk left Yunbok in the corridor. What was he waiting for? After a long moment, Jung-won returned with a jug in his hand and they exited the corridor out to the back garden and to the small pavilion where he left Yunbok.

Yun-bok sighed as he gazed at the far distant hills. Was it Hanno already? Time seemed to fly like the wind. Leaves covered the ground and it was getting colder. The mulberry bark would be processed soon and the making of paper would begin. Where did the days go? Dreamily, he stared at the panorama from his vantage point. How long had it been since he left Hanseong? Three years? Three years that brought peace, stability and security to his wandering weary soul after a nightmare fraught with much phobia, loneliness, heartache and bleakness for he had not dared to linger too long in any towns and villages.

He had always pushed on once he managed to sell a painting and stocked up on necessities with the money. But now he no longer had to keep looking over his shoulder at every moment. Days were filled and every night he slept deeply, free of ill omens. He no longer had to paint for a living, now he painted what he wanted. The freedom to express himself with no one to look on in disapproval. No one to harangue him, to threaten to take away his very life for doing something he loved. There was that. But then, he could not share his visions with anyone. No one except his master and...her. She who could be in harmony with him was lost out there. He sighed. He had told her to go, freed her from his selfishness. No regrets. And yet. No, he would not think about it. Resolutely, he cleared his mind, allowing other images to float to the fore. The events of the night before flashed before his eyes. Smiling, he prepared his brushes and ink, unrolling his drawing block. Taking out a piece of charcoal, he began to outline the scene he had in mind and was soon lost in the mist of his vision, not realizing there was someone approaching.

Walking with care, Kyoung-mi crept nearer, casting a warning look on Heon-sook who had grabbed her arm to stop her. Should she made a sound, much anger would be spilled on her head. Wringing her hands impotently, the maid stood aside and watched as her mistress went nearer. Surely the young man could see her already? But no, his head was down, his attention on his painting. Was he really that engrossed? Kyoung-mi didn't know what to think but the swift and steady strokes of his charcoal held her. With bated breath, she stood there like a statue for she knew not how long but the sun was high above when he put the finishing touches to the painting. Sitting back with a sigh, he put down the brush and contemplated the completed work.

"It's beautiful."

The soft voice was a shock and he turned to meet the admiring eyes of a young woman. Befuddled, he stared at her, unable to place her. Where did she come from? He had heard nothing, seen nothing. Mentally, he cursed the grip of inspiration. It usually made him deaf and blind to all else. A bad trait master Suk-won had often scolded him about. If he had to go lose himself in his dreams, he could do it in his own home, not out where he was most vulnerable. How right he was.

"I...," he frowned at the second woman, girl rather. He had seen them somewhere before and then it dawned on him who they were. How dense could he be? Hurriedly, he got to his feet at the same time she took a step forward, eager to see the painting more closely, and stumbled for her legs had gone numbed from standing still. Her forward tumble was arrested and even as she stared at him, he glared at the maid who bustled to her mistress's side belatedly. Snatching his hands away, he retreated several paces away. Time to get out of there. He began to gather up his painting tools and he froze when hands gently gathered up the painting.

Such vividness and subtle use of colours! The figures seemed to fly off the paper. There was the bravery of her cousin, his stance tall and purposeful against three with ill intent. Her face flushed when she saw herself. Was there such an aura of noble defiance about her? She frowned; he had not put himself in the scene. And as her eyes roved over the painting once more, realised there was one other missing item.

"Why is there no signature?" she asked curiously. His calligraphy was neat, the painting was lovely to behold: the heart and gallantry of a scholar out of his depth. Why then did he not sign his name?

"It's not important, I'm a nobody," he shrugged, looking away uneasily. Her gaze was too assessing and there was a glint of interest in it that caused him to feel uncomfortable. His hackles rose even higher in warning.

It didn't sound right to her. Who would not want to claim such a piece of work as his own? She was not sure she understood. "What are you going to do with this painting?"

"I...," he started hesitatingly. How should he go about refusing her? He longed for the old times when his manner was brash and unrefined without thought. It would have worked rather well here; he could just yanked it from her and walked off.

"May I have it?" she said. "Please? I can pay you for it." she offered when he made no reply.

"I'm sorry, it's not sale," he shifted uncomfortably when she moved nearer.

"Please, I like this painting very much," she implored. Standing that close to him, she was intrigued by the dark depths of his eyes. What lay behind those shifting veils? In her desire to know, she stepped even closer and that decided him. Either he grabbed the painting from her now or he could just walk away. As if she knew what he was thinking of, she held the painting flushed against herself, putting an end to the first option. Retreat. He would have to think of something to get it back from her another day for he was certain he would see Young-joon again.

"My apologies, the day is passing and I must be on my way," he bowed, then bent to roll up the used brushes and paint bowls in a rag. Everything was going to be in a mess but there was no help for it. Tossing out the remaining water in the jug, he gathered his packs and turned to go. Only to find Kyoung-mi in his way. Heon-sook could only look on silently at this tableau. Did her mistress know what she was doing?

"Please."

"I'm sorry, I must be on my way," he stepped past her and hurried away, feeling enormous relief as he stride away.

She looked at his back despondently, his reaction was not what she had expected at all. It was as if he was afraid of her. But why? He had wanted to take the painting from her, she saw it in his eyes but to her disappointment, he had refrained from doing it. She had hoped to feel his touch again, to move closer to him and talk further. But what was she thinking? Her cousin and uncle would be scandalized if they knew about this and yet, she could not help herself. Paper crackled as her clenched and she looked down at the painting, catching sight of the staff on the ground. He had forgotten his staff. Rolling up the the painting, she thrust it at her maid to hold before picking up the staff and ran after Yunbok.

"Brother Seo! Wait!"

He grimaced and wiped it off his face before he turned around. Now what? He kept his expression polite as she ran up with his staff. Silently, she offered it to him.

"How remiss of me," he said, looking at the staff. He reached out to take it from her and looked up in surprise when she did not let go of it when he tugged. She followed the pull and they were face to face.

"Brother Seo, are you afraid of me?" she stared into his eyes, amazed she was so daring as to ask the question and yet she wanted to know.

"No, why would I be?" he lied and gave another stronger tug, hoping she would let go of the staff which she did. "But you really should not be out here speaking to me. What will your cousin say?" he could not resist rebuking her. If she had stayed in the guest quarters, she wouldn't be out here making his life difficult.

Anger rose in her as he turned away.

"Then you should not have interfered last night. It would have been better if you had not done so, then I would not be here compromising myself in this way," she said angrily.

He froze, confounded by her words. "What...?" he stared at her.

"I...," she faltered, amazed by her own outburst. What was she saying? Flustered, she turned about hastily and hurried back to the pavilion.

He watched her walk back to the maid uneasily. That feeling of apprehension had increased. The faster he left the temple, the better. He had no desire to remain in the premises any longer if he could help it. From the pavilion, Kyoung-mi watched him go with mxed feelings. Confusion warred with the yearning to go after him. To apologise. Depression set in once she could not see his figure anymore. What was happening to her? Heon-sook watched her mistress in bewilderment as sadness seemed to overtake her.

"Mistress, shall we go back?"

"I suppose so." Kyoung-mi sighed, the day seemed to have turned darker for her. She knew he was leaving, she heard him say so. Perhaps it was better he left, her thoughts were all in a clutter, she needed sometime to think about what was happening to her.

Yunbok turned into the corridor of the men's wing to see a monk hurrying up to him. "Venerable Jae-seung's reply, sir," he bowed, handing a letter to Yunbok.

"Please convey my gratitude to brother Jung-won for the water," Yun-bok handed the empty jug to the monk who bowed again and left. Tucking the letter into his overcoat, Yunbok continued down the corridor to see someone waiting in the inner courtyard.

"Brother Seo!" Young-joon waved. "You're leaving already?" he eyed Yunbok's packs, sorry to see his new friend had to return home so soon. He had been hoping he would stay a few days.

"Yes, my master is waiting for the venerable's reply to begin production as it will soon be the season to cure the next batch of paper."

"I should like to visit your master's paper mill if I may. I have never seen the paper making process before," Young-joon said hopefully as he walked with Yun-bok down the corridor.

"I'm sure my master would welcome your visit." If there was the possibility of building up a friendship with Young-joon, Yun-bok would not mind pursuing it as there was relatively no one close to his age among his colleagues. Those in the village were all farmers and unlikely to reach the accord he was looking for: a close friend. Well, as close as he dared. Besides, there was that problem that must be resolved.

Pleased with the answer, Young-joon decided he would made contact with the paper mill as soon as he returned him. "Oh yes, have you seen my cousin? She's not at the women's wing, I can't seem to find her. She's not at the dharma hall or garden," he wondered where Kyoung-mi could have gone to. Yunbok quickly hid his discomfiture.

"I think I saw her at the pavilion." They reached the main courtyard of the temple. "I'll take my leave then, brother Han."

"Have a safe journey brother Seo." Young-joon stood at the stairs, gazing after Yun-bok until he had disappeared down the trail. Hopefully, he would meet this new friend and brother of his again soon for he was keen to know him better. Well pleased with himself, he went in search of Kyoung-mi.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sanggang 1781**

The ground was frozen and the air frigid. Pulling at the lapels of his coat, he wished he could huddle under a jangot. How much warmer it would be with his face and ears protected against the cold. The snow crunched under his feet as he walked along the road. There was scarcely any pheasants to be seen. Not a croak or a chirp or a buzz. With the snow, most of the fauna had retreated to warmer climates, gone to sleep or changed colour with the season. It would be hard to spot a rabbit.

Picking up a stone, he threw it on the seonangdang as he passed, muttering a prayer. Nearby, the colourful cloths on the dangnamu fluttered in the cold wind, as if in welcome. Further down the road, the jangseung seemed to be mouthing words of welcome through its perpetually opened mouth. All welcomed signs that he was going to be home soon. On he trudged, not surprised that there was no one along the path. Since it was mid afternoon, most would probably be preoccupied at the market or chores.

Then finally, as he rounded the corner, buildings came into sight, lifting his heart. Home. His pace picked up and once past the sotdae, he was in the village. Here, villagers were going about their chores; chopping up wood or bringing back water. Several were gathered at the mojeong but he did not stop to find out what they were discussing. Those about on the paths bowed in greeting when they saw him. Humming under his breath, he made his way to the trail that wound up to the paper mill.

A contrast to the placid village below, the paper mill was bustling with activity. Steam and smoke bellowed in the air. Men were bent over pots of mulberry branches steaming busily over fires. Loud thuds resounded as softened branches were beaten and ground. The fumes of the boiling pot of lime made his eyes watered and he sneezed as he inhaled a large amount of it as he peered over the shoulders of a worker stirring it. A sturdy middle-age man tending another pot nearby looked up at the sound.

"Ho rascal! I see you're back," he grinned as if he had not been aware of his presence. Yunbok's eyes narrowed when he noticed the glint in the older man's eyes but reached into his coat. "Venerable Jae-seung sends his regards, " he proffered the letter.

"Really?" Suk-kwon read the letter, his eyebrows wriggling up and down even as he nodded happily. "Well, well...it looks like you pass the test with flying colours. We should celebrate!"

Yunbok winced when Suk-kwon thumped his shoulders heartily, wishing the older man was less enthusiastic. The older man's next remark made him forget about the sting. "And since we are celebrating, it's your turn this week to make the meals." Suk-kwon grinned slyly, tucking the letter into his shirt before returning to his task of washing the mulberry fibres. His turn to cook? Yunbok could hardly believe his ears.

"But I did that two weeks before last," he protested, even as he counted on his fingers. "It's your turn!"

"Ho, but I was eating my own meals during those days when you were absent. You were just not around to taste them."

What logic was that? Yun-bok fumed, glaring as chuckles rose from the worker nearby. "What's so funny, Bong-chol?" he demanded of the slightly rotund man.

"Nothing... hehe, really, at this rate, Suk-kwon wouldn't really have to get a wife since he already has a chef at home. You are always at his beck and call," Bong-chol looked down demurely, pretending he was wearing a chima. Chuckles rose into the air as the men around them heard and they called for a dance.

"Really... for that, you will not get the injeolmi I bought for my esteemed colleagues," Yun-bok twirled the large food package tantalizingly before Bong-chol, whom he knew could not pass up on treats.

"What? No, I was joking, young master," Bong-chol dropped his coquettish mincing and made a grab for the package. Yunbok ducked out of the way, laughed and tossed it to the grinning colleague behind Bong-chol. There was a rush en masse as the rest shouted their thanks and converged to get their share with Bong-chol pushed out to the edges of the crowd. "Hey, you greedy lubbers, save some for me," he yelled and squirmed back in. Suk-kwon only shook his head at the spectacle.

Untying his gat, Yunbok made made his way into Suk-kwon's house, dumped his pack and staff in a corner and made his way into the kitchen with a package in his hand. Hanging from the ceiling were several neatly tied packages, a gratifying sight. After checking a few pots, he was more than pleased that his master had stocked up the larder. Unwrapping the package, he removed the sulbyeong of wine he had bought along with the food and placed it on a large soban with a few empty drinking bowls and brought it out to the workyard, calling his colleagues to have a drink before they choked. There was a rousing cheer for his generosity.

A thought struck him as he walked back to the kitchen and he went to the storage shed instead. The aroma of kimchi hit him as he removed the thatch covering the dok buried in the floor of the shed and opened it. It looked like his master had not forgotten this year. Did it he make it himself or did he ask the village ajumma? He brought up a little of it to taste and smiled; it was not his master's work. It had been frankly mortifying last year when his master could forget to harvest and prepare everything for the village ajumma when they came round on kimchi making day. The lack of kimchi had made meals so dismal that they had tried to make it themselves.

The worst of it was, neither one had made it before. They never got the taste to their liking that Suk-kwon had gone to ask for some from the village ajumma. It was an embarrassing episode he had harped on before he left to deliver the papers. Just so the older man would not forget. Satisfied that there was kimchi for next year, he resealed the dok. Closing the storage shed, he went into the house and jumped a little when his colleagues broke into song outside. He listened for a moment, hoping they were not drunk but then, there was not enough wine to make anyone tipsy. Carefully, he hung his coat and gat on the hwattae, checking the mail holder before rolling up his sleeves. His master was getting lazy, he always seemed to be the one cooking the meals nowadays.

As he sliced and chopped, preparing dinner, the noises outside died away. As night came on, he lit the oil lamp and set out the soban out in the room as Suk-kwon came in and went to the kitchen. The older man came back from the kitchen, seated himself and took the first mouthful from his bowl. He waited.

"The bap is burnt again!" Came the pronouncement.

"It is not, master." Typical. After four years of cooking, how could he possibly have burnt the rice?

"Aigoo! You're worse than a drunken fool who can't walk straight. At least he has an excuse, what's yours?" Yunbok evaded the teasing knock Suk-Kwon directed at him with his chopsticks.

"You're as bad as my old master, use words! Not knocks!" he said, aggrieved. He ducked another strike and almost upset the dishes on the table.

"Good gracious me. He must be a real old fart like me eh?" Suk-kwon laughed and took up the spoon again. He took another bite. "It's undercooked!"

Yunbok heaved a sigh and tasted the bap from his own bowl. "Master, it is neither burnt nor undercooked. You're just picking on me," he complained. "And before you say anything, the guk is not tasteless. You're just trying to make trouble."

Suk-kwon chuckled as he ate his dinner. Yunbok was right, there was no problem with the food. Finding problems with it was almost like a ritual that had come about after Yunbok came to stay. Knowing nothing about cooking had made the meals he made exceedingly difficult to stomach. Ahhh, how many times was the rice inedible, no soup to be had because it was dried up, the meat as black as soot or the fish too salty before he finally turned out a presentable meal? Those days of indigestion!

"You should thank me, rascal," he said, sipping the soup. His eyebrows shot up, it was getting better and better. "Who taught you how to cook eh?"

"Yes, yes yes, master. But your menu is so limited, I had to pester the ajummas in the village for recipes, otherwise we'll both still be eating those three dishes you taught me. And two of those are hardly be suitable for the table." Yunbok caught the next swipe with his chopsticks. "Ha, you miss!"

They laughed and finished the meal in amicable silence. Suk-kwon brought out his ledgers, pulling out a couple of scrolls from the mail holder while Yunbok cleared away the soban and dishes to the kitchen. After the dishes were cleaned, he went to his packs and brought out a few more scrolls. "Standard orders from the other villages, master," he handed the scrolls to Suk-kwon who perused them immediately.

"How are they doing?"

"They're doing well though there are some anxieties over the recent earthquake," said Yunbok as he prepared the ink and checked the brushes. "There's talk about less game to be had in the coming season."

"Hmm," Suk-kwon humphed absently. "Tomorrow, we'll start on three batches of the new paper type for Venerable Jae-seung. If the prototype books turn out well, he'll order more," he said, to Yunbok who sat ready to document new orders.

"Three batches."

Suk-kwon looked over as Yunbok wrote it down. It was always a joy to watch him paint and write, his calligraphy was elegant and neat. And his paintings. Suk-kwon stifled a sigh. He looked away when Yunbok glanced up inquiringly. "Next, someone from Hansang came by yesterday to order several batches. That is rather unusual. How did they come to know about us?"

"Oh, would that be...," Yunbok began, smiling as he recalled the friend he made.

"What?" Suk-kwon looked at him curiously.

"I ran into a young man, Han Young-joon from Hansang when I delivered your samples to Venerable Jae-seung. I... ah lent a helping hand because he was in trouble," Yun-bok was not inclined to mention what aid he rendered. It would only open a floodgate of questions from his master; what was it he did and the older man would analyse everything to the smallest detail. "He expressed an interest in placing a contract with us."

"Ho, rascal. I sent you on a simple errand and you brought back a rich customer," Suk-kwon laughed. "I should send you out on more errands then," he looked at the scroll. "They want to deal directly with us. No geogan or gaekju."

Yunbok sat up at that. "Wouldn't that create problems with the merchant guild?" he said worriedly.

"If we are agreeable, Hansang will pay the penalty to the guild," the older man read the scroll again. "If they're willing to do that, I do not see why we should refuse." Rolling up the scroll, he put it aside. "All right then. They ordered six batches. Three of cham dak and three of usual dak. And oh yes, those three you sent on? I already set two of them on the wood logs, the third has not recovered from the broken arm. Do you think I'm running a charity house? Why send those three here?"

"Well, no, but..." Yunbok started, gathering his thoughts for he had forgotten about those men.

"But what?" Suk-kwon demanded neutrally. "What motivated you?"

"Master, from since the reign of King Yeongjo, social and economic changes have been diffusing throughout all classes. We can see for ourselves how the wealthy Yangban, merchants and farmers have waxed fat under the reforms, enlarging their own lands by renting and buying them at ridiculous prices off the more improvished peasants who in turn are left with nothing and nowhere to go. More often than not, they are forced to seek unlawful means to support themselves. We have the ability to help those in need, why should we not extend a helping hand? Besides master, did you not help me once before?" Yun-bok said earnestly.

"That was different."

"How was it different?" Yunbok demanded. "My situation then was not any dissimilar from theirs. I have seen much during my wanderings, master. Even though I was as impecunious as the poor people I came across, it was a trial to see their miseries and unable to help. Now that I have the ability to give aid, why shouldn't I? Why shouldn't we?"

"Fine, fine," Suk-kwon threw up his hands in mock surrender. Inwardly he was pleased with Yun-bok. "That mouth of yours is getting sharper by the day. Are you sure you're not a woman?"

"Master!" Yunbok said reprovingly but Suk-kwon only laughed.

Later that night, as he cleaned his brushes once more in his house, Yunbok thought back again to the incident at the pavilion. If only he had the gift of a flowery tongue, perhaps he might have been able to cajole her into giving up that painting. Or perhaps he should have tried some sort of trade. Then he remembered the look in her eyes and he shook his head. No, she was too blinded by illusions. No matter what he tried, short of committing something impossible, it was improbable he could have persuaded her. But perhaps if he lead her on and try to make her hate him so much, she would destroy the painting. For a moment, he entertained the idea before dismissing it. Ahh no. It was too complicated and he could not possibly do to another what he had done to Jeong-hyang. Then, he was confused and selfish. If he deliberately did it now, it was evil and cruel. No, he couldn't.

So what would she do with the painting? Painting... painting. He hung the brushes up carefully in the kitchen to dry and wiped his hands. If she simply hung it in her room, not many people would see it. But if she decided to show it around, the damage she could deal. He rubbed his face as he tried not to think about it. Not one painting he had sold since leaving Hanseong bore his signature style. Nor did he sign them. There was nothing in them to show his hand. But that was not so in the painting he did that day. What were the chances of someone in her immediate circle would recognise his signature style? He cursed his lapse. Perhaps he had been feeling too comfortable where he was now.

Moving to the bandaji in his room, he opened the lower drawer and took out the seals his old master Danwon had made for him. What was his old master doing now? What madcap plan would he come up with if he knew? Replacing the seals in the box, he shoved it back into the drawer and wandered out to the porch and sat down. The cold was biting but he hardly noticed it as he stared at the dark sky. What could he say if someone come asking about it? Could he say he was merely copying the style of the famous painter Hyewon? After all, there were many painters who were replicating Hyewon's paintings everywhere, he should not stand out among the copycats. Hopefully.

For the remainder of the night, he turned and tossed in his bedroll, trying to think of a solution. When the cry of the roosters broke the silence of the night, he got up and went down to the seodang he had opened in the village. During off season, he would hold free classes for the children. Now that it was peak season for paper manufacture, he would be too busy but he wished to pass on some homework to the children. The villagers he passed greeted him deferentially as he walked to the small house that served as the school near the village center. It was empty but he knew someone would come along presently to pick up the papers he had prepared.

"You have returned safely, Mr Seo," a voice greeted warmly from the door way. He looked up to see it was Yoo Dae-jung, the village chief and bowed in greeting as the old man walked in.

"Is there anything you need of me, sir?" Yunbok asked.

"Ah, I was wondering, if you have books on agriculture."

"I am afraid not, sir. Do you need it urgently?"

"No, no. I heard from a relative of mine that many new books on many subjects are available. Agriculture and cultivation are the ones we are interested in. If there are new farming methods, it will help us greatly in improving the yield of the fields," Dae-jung explained.

"I see," Yunbok said slowly as he tried to recall if he had come across any of the books at the temple. An opportunity he had neglected to make use of. "I can look at the bookshops in Uiryeong for the books you need sir."

"If it is not too much trouble, Mr Seo. It will come in useful for the next planting season," Dae-jung placed a chanhap on the desk. "My wife prepared some food for you and Master Suk-kwon, please accept it."

"Halmoni Nam's efforts is much appreciated," Yunbok bowed his thanks.

"Ahh, she will be pleased to hear. Is that the homework? Please let me have it, my son will distribute them to the others," Dae-jung said, seeing the stack of papers. Yun-bok handed them over before leaving with him, locking the door of the seodang behind them. As they walked along the path, more villagers came up bearing small packages. By the time he returned to the paper mill, he was loaded down with parcels. His colleagues, as usual, began to run off a flood of comments when they saw him.

"Here comes our most sought after bachelor!"

"How many girls this time?"

"When do we get to drink at your wedding?"

"Aigoo, why are you taking so long to pick a wife?"

"Why one? Take two!"

Three years ago, such comments would get Yun-bok flustered and hot but he was now immuned to them, having gone through such cycles three times over. The trouble with volunteering to teach the children also set him in the sights of the villagers who saw him as marriage material for daughters and cousins. He had thought they would prefer to marry among their own rank and file rather than chose a stranger but they did not seem to care. Not about his background or even that he wasn't the strong type they would look for. Hence, he was often deluged with gifts and approaches every year end which he had to fend off with as many excuses as he could. The most oft cover he used prudently to defend himself was that he was already engaged to somebody else. But even that did not seem to deter the villagers since a man could take concubines. Apparently, they thought he could support more than a wife. He would have told them he could support none if he could.

"Do you want to help me with these or shall I keep it all for master Suk-kwon? he demanded, cutting the banter short.

Bong-chol exclaimed, "Aigoo! That's a good idea, keep him stuffed so full that he'll pick more on the food and less on us!"

The men laughed before helping to offload the packages to Suk-kwon's kitchen. The older man came by while they were in the midst of the chore and snagged Yunbok to gather mulberry branches from the hills behind the paper mill with two new workers: the Joon brothers. Erstwhile robbers that Yunbok encountered on the way to the temple and redirected to the paper mill after they were captured. Half way to the hills, they stopped at a small clearing. The two brothers looked surprised when they were told to leave their jige on the ground and ready their axes. Yunbok set his own under a tree and readied his staff.

"I want both of you to attack him."

The brothers were dumbfounded and stood frozen to the spot as they stared at Suk-kwon, wondering if they had heard correctly.

"What are you waiting for? Didn't you face him that night?" Suk-kwon barked impatiently when they didn't move.

"But sir...we...we can't do that," one of the two stammered, the older of the two, Chang-sun.

"Why not?" Suk-kwon demanded. "You did not hesitate to waylay travellers, why are you stopping now?"

"No, no," the two brothers hastily knelt on the ground. "We had no choice, we were starving and..."

"That's utter nonsense. You could have gone to the monks for help if you were that desperate," Suk-kwon interrupted. "What was the real reason?"

"No, really," said Chang-uk. "The monks gave us alms when we asked for food but we could not stay at the temple forever. We found work but we were cheated of our wages. No one gave us a fair hearing when we protested and we were falsely accused, beaten, threatened and chased away for making trouble. Hyeong became angry and said we should just attack all the rich people going to the temple because they are deceitful hypocrites. We never intend to take lives, we just want to take away their goods and money."

"Fools! You gave up after one setback and resort to crime for an easy way out?" roared Suk-kwon. He pointed at Yun-bok. "Perhaps you should ask him how many times he had fallen and picked himself up again when hardship came his way?"

"Er...master...," Yun-bok thought it was not necessary to weigh his problems against theirs but shut his mouth when Suk-kwon glared at him before turning his attention back to the brothers.

"What you did is past. Pick yourselves up again."

The two brothers got up uncertainly and looked at Suk-kwon pleadingly. Why was he asking them to attack someone who had helped them? Wasn't he the young man's master?

"I want you to attack him for a reason. You don't have to ask what it is, just put your best effort into it. You do him no favours by holding back," Suk-kwon said, taking up his own staff. "You need not worry about injuring him. I will be on hand to stop it."

When the two still didn't move, he roared, "I said attack him. Pretend you're going to rob him. Go on. Decide between yourselves how you are going about it," he watched keenly, staff held ready as the two brothers hesitatingly whispered to each other. They looked to Yunbok and bowed.

"If young sir is ready?"

"Please do your best," Yunbok said.

"Forgive our discourtesy."

The two brothers split up, circling Yunbok. As soon as he saw his brother was behind Yun-bok, Chang-sun charged. There was no finesse in his attack, Yunbok evaded easily and struck him on his back that sent him tumbling forward and turned quickly to face Chang-uk as his brother went down. Chang-uk's attack was a little more circumspect, he threw soil at Yun-bok in an attempt to blind him and followed in with his axe. But Yun-bok turned his face away in time and ducked under his guard as he swung, striking his midriff.

"Hold!," Suk-kwon called. The two brothers ceased immediately, glad they did not have to continue. "All right, that's good enough." He went up to Yunbok. "I know you're holding back. But those two strikes landed well." Yunbok could see he was pleased. "You will do well to remember to show no mercy if you happened to come up against those who are out for blood." Suk-kwon reminded Yunbok quietly. "Remember how I found you?"

"I know master. I will keep your words in mind," Yunbok nodded.

"All right, let's get on with our jobs," Suk-kwon exhorted. "The day is getting on! Ahhhh!"

* * *

_Korean Words_

_Chanhap - nest of lunchboxes used by commoners_  
_Gaekju - middleman_  
_Geogan - brokers_  
_Injeolm - sweet rice cake_  
_Jangseung - totem pole_  
_Mojeong - village centre, gathering place for villagers_  
_Seonangdang - a pile of stones of religious purposes_  
_Sotdae - pole in the shape of a bird_


	4. Chapter 4

**Ipdong 1781**

A week later, Yunbok made his way to town with the Joon brothers. The road to Uiryeong was filled with people, animals and carts. The to-ing and fro-ing left a road cleared of snow but slippery from melted ice. Although he was certain no one would think of looking for him in such a remote area, Yunbok couldn't help but feel a little nervous as he passed the soldiers at the main gate. Too often, he had nightmares of being detained by guards in the towns he passed through. The soldiers made no move for him and he relaxed. Moving with the crowd, he made his way along the main street that meandered through the market where numerous shops hawked a variety of wares.

Turning his head left and right, Yunbok glanced at the goods on offer but did not stop to browse as he would have. He could do that later after the paper had been delivered. Coming to the end of the market street, he stood somewhat at a lost the intersection. It was not that often he would go into town and he had no idea where to go next. Eyeing the shopkeepers, he stepped up to an old man sorting out medicinal herbs.

"Excuse me, sir, can you direct me to the Hansang warehouse?"

"Hansang warehouse," the old man frowned as he thought. "Ah, straight up this road, take a right and a left when you see a jumak."

Yun-bok thanked the old man and nodded to the three Joon brothers carrying bales of paper behind him to follow. Progress was slow as they wound through the press of the crowd, the snow and ice on the streets hampering them further. Eventually, they reached a jumak and duely turned right and left to arrive at the gates of a large warehouse. The yard was a hubbub of activities with workers shifting goods back and forth from carts and warehouse. Watching like a hawk nearby, a geogan imperiously directed the loading of a cart. Yun-bok looked around, half wondering where he would find the warehouse supervisor and did not notice a hand waving to him from the crowd.

"Brother Seo!"

He turned in surprise. Out from the crowd of workers bounded Young-joon, his face beaming with welcome.

"Brother Han, I was not expecting to see you here," Yunbok bowed in greeting.

"Ah, my father's on a business trip so I'm overseeing the warehouse while he's away. I'm usually in the office," Young-joon waved vaguely behind him, "but I came out for a breath of air. It can get stifling. Are you here to deliver the papers we ordered?" he looked at the three men standing behind Yun-bok. His eyes widened as he recognized them. "They..," he said in disbelief.

"Yes indeed, we are delivering your order and...," Yun-bok turned to look at the three brothers who looked down sheepishly at their feet. "Yes, we are old friends aren't we?"

"Ah, sir...," one of the three mumbled.

Young-joon stared at Yunbok as if he couldn't quite believe what he had done. Something clicked in him and he smiled. Of all the friends he had made, none was as intriguing, complex and magnanimous as Yun-bok. Or as forgiving. More and more, he wished to get to know him better.

"Well then, let's get the formalities over with, shall we?" he gestured politely to Yunbok to enter the warehouse and showed him to the opened doors of the office annexed to it. It was crowded with men waiting to finish transactions and other business. Young-joon led them past the clerks to another room behind. There, he examined and marked off the bales of paper before handing over the payment. Looking down at Yunbok's acknowledgement and seal on the chuljapyo, he saw that it was beautifully written and neat. Truly, his friend was a learned man. Why then was he working at a paper mill? He handed a wooden chit to one of the brothers so they could offload the bales at the warehouse.

Just as Yunbok got up to leave he said, ""Brother Seo, if you have no other business for the day, how about a drink?"

"I'm afraid I would be distracting you from your duties, perhaps another time," Yun-bok declined politely. He was not really interested in roaming around and though this was an opportunity to try to resolve the issue of the painting, he still had not come up with a plan. Perhaps he ought to leave it to fate.

"No, no. Please I insist. I've been running the warehouse diligently for the past two weeks now, father would not mind if I take a day off. My supervisor here can take over, he is a capable man," Young-joon stood up, his mind already running over the entertainment he would like to shower Yunbok with. "Besides, it's not as if I have a chance of your company everyday. Today is indeed a rare occasion!" he added persuasively.

Yunbok hesitated, dare he? "Aigoo, do I have to beg?" Young-joon was surprised at his friend's reluctance.

"I... very well, if it is not too much trouble, brother Han," Yunbok gave in reluctantly. He turned to the brothers waiting behind him.

"Chang-su, please go back and tell master Suk-kwon I'll be returning late. Take this," he handed the payment for the paper, bound up in cloth, to the oldest of the three. "You know what to do with it and," he reached into his coat and took out his money pouch. "Here are twenty pun, you can buy whatever food and drinks you need for yourselves and the others before you go back."

"Yes sir, we will do as you say," Chang-su bowed respectfully to Yunbok. "Please take care sir."

The men bowed again before leaving. Young-joon felt very much out of his depth at his friend's faith with the former robbers. "You are taking a risk, brother Seo. You trust them that much?" he said, gazing after the three men as they left the office.

"Without trust and faith, the wounded man would forever hobble, never to stand in the sun again," Yunbok said soberly.

"You have the right of it, brother," Young-joon muttered as he visualised a different outcome for the Joon brothers had they not met Yunbok. Shaking himself out of his solumn mood, he went in search of his supervisor and found him outside the warehouse. After whispering some instructions, he strolled out into the snowy icy streets with Yunbok, glad that he would not be spending the rest of the day cooped up in the office. They headed north towards the eupchi, following the main road and then down south towards the marketplace. Along the way, Young-joon pointed out the compounds of the wealthier families who were mostly the better off merchants in the region with one or two retired officials. They passed the minchon before arriving at the marketplace.

Strolling along the shops, they stopped now and then to examine the wares. At the grain aemak was a foreign food of a type they had never seen before. The vendors called it corn, traded in from China and offered them samples to taste. The flavour was unusual, Young-joon opinioned. It was bland though sweet, he found, but Yunbok thought it was rather delicious and bought a few. As they browsed, he observed that the prices of foodstuff, raw and cooked were startling higher than usual than those at the village jangsi. Especially grain. What was the reason?

"I would say the problem originated with the demand for snacks which had always been substantial," said Young-joon. "It's especially higher during the winter season," he nodded towards a crowded jumak in the distance. "With the proliferation of wealth, more people are willing and able to spend on food and drinks. Such appetite encouraged geogan and merchants to raise prices. It's a wonder that the town is not overrun with grocery stalls, much profit could be made from running one."

"Would you say that the indebted farmers are also hampered from any attempt to increase their crop to meet the demand?" said Yunbok. "Land holders wouldn't want more influx to reduce their gain and if the crop should fail, prices would increase accordingly. And what about that earthquake? Already there are rumors that crop failures are certain to happen."

"Indeed," agreed Young-joon. "But competition among the merchants and taverns should keep prices from expanding too emphatically."

"There is that," said Yunbok doubtfully.

They moved on to other stalls and shops selling commodities further down. The variety amazed Yunbok as they strolled along looking at the wares; medicinal herbs, metal wares, wood wares, cloth, stationery, accessories, cosmetics and so forth. The merchandise conglomeration in Uiryeong was almost equivalent to that of Hanseong and rivalry for customers was fierce. He supposed the proximity of the port at Busan provided opportunities for a profusion of wares to be disseminated along the land route.

Business was brisk at the jumak as people were eager for warm food and drinks on this cold day. In an alley, men stood at the moknojujeom, some downing drinks at leisure, others quaffed a quick bowl before going on their way. They stopped at the sobalmakgeollijip for a couple of bowls of makgeolli. Yunbok was taken aback at the price and was having second thoughts but Young-joon paid up without a qualm. Suitably refreshed. they turned into a bookstore. Recalling his conversation with the village chief, Yun-bok hunted for books on agriculture and cultivation. He found a couple that were of the latest edition and picked them up.

"Why are you buying books on agriculture, brother Seo?" Young-joon asked curiously when he saw what his friend was paying for. "Are you planning to branch out into farming?"

"No, the village chief is keen on acquiring the latest editions books on the subject. He wants to improve the yields of the farms."

"Oh, that is most interesting," Young-joon wandered off thoughtfully and then pulled the bookstore proprietor aside for a chat after a quick look around to make sure no one was near enough to hear.

His task done, Yun-bok browsed through the other selections. Classics, popular fiction, poetry, almanacs, medicine, astronomy and so on. A Chinese production with illustrations caught his eye. It reminded him of his father's manuscript. He frowned. It had been so long, whatever had happened to his father's book? He had brought it away with him but where had he put it?

Young-joon returned to see his frown. "But what is wrong brother Seo?"

"Oh, it's nothing. These pictures reminded me of another book I've seen before," said Yunbok, finally recalling where he had hidden the book.

"What book is it?" Young-joon took a look. "Ahhh, machines and contraptions. The Chinese came up with many fascinating devices. Some of which are really fantastic. I have heard of someone who built a machine that is supposed to carry a person up into the sky."

"Really?" Yun-bok laughed. It was hard to imagine a person flying in the sky like a bird, it was impossible. "Did it work?"

"I don't know, I never heard what happened. But look here, brother Seo," Young-joon had a mischievous look on his face as he handed Yun-bok the book he was holding. "The ultimate satisfaction!"

"What is...," Yun-bok stopped as he flipped it open. He flushed red. "Brother Han, this is inappropriate!" He thrust the book back at a grinning Young-joon and stalked out of the shop, thoroughly embarrassed and annoyed. Really, what was Young-joon thinking? The existence of such a book had never crossed his mind, but then he was not as other men. Recalling the avid absorption of his former classmates with womenat Dohwaseo, he shook his head. Come to think of it, his colleagues were just as bad. A universal trait that men never grew out of?

"I'm sorry," Young-joon caught up to him as he paused by a stall selling accessories and ornaments. Anxiously, he looked at Yun-bok, hoping he had not offended his friend. "It was just a jest."

Yunbok only shook his head, disinclined to discuss it.

Taking the hint, Young-joon asked instead, "What are you looking for?"

It was an old habit of his that he could not seem to get rid of. Everytime he passed by one of these stalls in his wanderings, he would look at the butterfly pendants and think of her. Where was she? Living a life filled with happiness, a loving husband and children, he hoped. He picked up one of the pendants, it looked somewhat similar to the one he had given her. Had she kept it? Why would she? But the lock of hair she had given him was with him still and would always be.

"Are you going to buy that for a lady love?" Young-joon was curious at the forlorn look on Yun-bok's face.

"Eh? No, no, I was just looking," Yun-bok returned the pendant to the display box. "It's nothing. Where shall we go to next?"

"Brother Seo, you're in luck. A travelling troupe arrived recently, I heard some of their performers can do amazing tricks. We shall fill ourselves with their entertainment and then after to my house for dinner."

"That is rather unusual isn't it?" Yun-bok was surprised. "I never came across performing troupes in winter."

"That is true," Young-joon nodded. "This is the first time there is such a performance."

"Their earnings during the peak season must be bad," Yun-bok said thoughtfully. For a troupe to be in dire straits was not a good sign. Was this the result of the earthquake?

The performances were already in full swing by the time they arrived at the town center. Pulling Young-joon over to stand on the steps of a shop so as to look over the heads of the crowd, Yunbok surveyed the surroundings. It was amazing that so many people were willing to stand out in the cold. It helped that there were coal braziers scattered all around, probbaly set up by the sotdaejaengipae troupe. Many of the spectators were well dressed in fine silk coats. Strange that there were so many but perhaps they were just stopping by on their way somewhere else. Night was going to fall soon.

A strange scent wafted to his nose and he looked about curiously. An elbow nudged him in his side, he looked at Young-joon who nodded to the extremely plump man nearby. Yunbok eyed the man with interest. Pomposity evident in his posture, the plump but finely dressed man fluttered his expensive feathery fan. Yun-bok's nose twitched and his eyebrows shot up in disbelief. Even at that distance, the heavy perfume scent was overbearingly powerful, almost making it difficult to breathe. It must be even worse for those standing near the man for there was a small open space around him. Yunbok could have sworn there was also powder on the man's face. Young-joon was shaking, he realized, with laughter.

"Stop that," he whispered, hardly able to hold in his own giggles. He hurriedly looked away when the man glanced in their direction. Concentrate, he thought to himself, on the troupe, concentrate. They were really good. He watched as they juggled objects that seemed impossible to throw around, twist themselves bonelessly in all sorts of postures as they performed on both the ground and top of the pole. At the end of the performances, he felt that they deserved a good donation. Apparently of the same opinion, Young-joon contributed a generous tip before leading Yun-bok up north to his house.

Dusk had fallen when they arrived at the Han residence for dinner. A servant answered the call at the gates and Young-joon led Yunbok into an elegant but modest house. At the daecheong, he was not surprised to see who was waiting for them and yet he had been hoping she would keep to her quarters. A futile assumption. Kyoung-mi was equally taken aback when she saw Yunbok. The instructions given to her by the warehouse supervisor only told her to prepare dinner for a mutual friend he was bringing that night. Having not the slightest idea who Young-joon was referring to, she had elected to go to the daecheong when a maid announced his return instead of staying in the anbang as she usually did when there were visitors.

Young-joon did not notice anything amiss and only said gaily to Kyoung-mi. "I hope dinner is ready, cousin?"

"It is ready," she kept her eyes lowered, afraid that he would see her disquiet. "Shall I have it brought to your study room or sarangbang?"

"My study room. Brother Seo, this way," Young-joon led the way to his study room in the men's quarters. The warmth of the room was like a balm. "I don't suppose you smoke, brother Seo?" he indicated the smoking paraphanelia and hot brazier in the room as they settled themselves down on the cushions before a low desk with a byeongpung behind it.

"No, thank you." Yun-bok declined the offer, casting a quick look around the room. It was austere but the floor was a smooth pine-cone finished, a rich pumpkin colour and the ceiling was simple in white. Jokja hung on either of the byeongpung behind the poryo. Enclosed book cases lined the walls, a tri-level shelf in the corner and a kobi stuffed with scrolls hugged the wall next to the closed windows. The door to the bedroom was shut.

"Ahh, I am rather hungry after all the walk we did today," Young-joon laughed. "My cousin is a good cook. I'm glad she was around after mother passed away. Without a lady in the house, we men are at a lost when it comes to meals."

"You have no other siblings?"

"I'm an only son," Young-joon sighed. "As such, my father looks to me to carry on the family fortunes. Most of my relatives have since moved to other provinces, especially to towns up north so as to take better advantage of the trade routes. This house is a little empty as it is."

"I am sure you will do well in your endeavors, brother Han."

"May I come in?" came Kyoung-mi's voice outside the door.

"Please do."

The door opened. Carrying a soban between them, Kyoung-mi and her maid placed it between Yunbok and Young-joon. The brazier was carefully shifted nearer to keep everything cosy. Young-joon was pleased to see she had prepared ocheopbansang. A fine meal to set before his brother.

Withdrawing to her own room at the anbang, Kyoung-mi sat down to her own meal but her appetite had fled. Ever since the incident at the pavilion, she had been going over her own actions and words, examining her own behaviour. She had always been very scrupulous and maintained no contact with the friends Young-joon would entertain now and then. Observing their conduct and words behind doors, she found them to be boorish and self-centered. To see her cousin moving with such company had been disquieting. How then was she to explain her forward manner with this Mr Seo? Her desire to speak directly to him?

Perhaps it was because he was so vastly different from her cousin's friends? Or was it because he saved her from the robber? Or his talent for painting? Whatever it was, her cousin seemed to pale in significance beside him. Staring blanking at the dishes on the soban before her, she tried to sort it out. Having spent the past week trying to come up with answers, she did not think she was any closer to an explanation. There was that obvious reason that best describe her situation but she was afraid to entertain it. How long she sat there lost in thought she had no idea but she looked up when Heon-sook called at the door.

"Mistress, young master asked if you would be interested in joining him for drinks."

Kyoung-mi stared at the door in disbelief. Young-joon had invited her to join him? To sit in the presence of a stranger? Had her cousin come to regard this Mr Seo as close family? How was that right? But then, he did save their lives that night. If he hadn't, she would have lost both her honour and her life. Oh what a conundrum. Should she refuse it? And yet, she felt she could not bear to pass up the opportunity to see him again.

"Yes, I'll come." Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she got up and made her way to her cousin's room. She could hear the murmur of voices as she approached the door, her heart quickened.

"It's a double edged sword in any way you look at it. King Yeongjo's reforms may have ended factional strife somewhat but it in turn accelerate social changes. Look at the number of Yangban we have today. Not even half are of the true nobility, most of them are merchants or rich peasants who bought titles," Young-joon tossed back his cup of wine.

"Does it really matter that much, brother Han?" Yun-bok asked curiously as he refilled his friend's cup with the bottle of wine.

"How does it not matter? These merchants get into my hair with their flowery comportment, wafting windbags of foul self importance that positively undermine their grandiloquent intentions," Young-joon lamented, sipping at his cup before handing it to Yun-bok who immediately recalled the extremely plump coxcomb at the troupe performance. They laughed and Yunbok shook his head, draining the remaining contents and refilled the cup before handing it to Young-joon who accepted Yun-bok's own cup and did likewise even as he chuckled at the memory.

"What are you thinking of, brother Seo?" Young-joon grinned.

"Not very positively," Yunbok grinned. They laughed, almost missing Kyoung-mi's request to enter. "It's unfortunate the earthquake did not provoke a more positive change in attitude among some of the wealthy."

"Haha...ahem, come in cousin." Young-joon tried to sober up unsuccessfully. "That earthquake will only propel them to find better holdings to store their wealth!"

Kyoung-mi wondered what was the joke they were sharing in as she closed the door behind her. Her cousin seemed more relaxed and opened than any other times she had seen him. Quietly, she sat near Young-joon.

"That earthquake was frightening, I thought the ground would open beneath me or the house would collapse," Young-joon thought back to that terrifying day. "The maids were screaming so loudly I could barely hear myself speak. Some of my friends were so alarmed they swore to change their ways."

"Promises made in a moment of fear dries up readily like water in the sun," said Yunbok as Yong-joon shook his head wryly. "Despite the calamitous incident, it has brought mixed blessings."

"Of whom are you referring to?" asked Young-joon curiously.

"Shamans and fortune-tellers. Would people not seek assurance and have gut or jeom performed?" Yun-bok said shrewdly, recalling the rituals carried out at the village in the aftermath.

"There is no denial," Young-joon agreed. "Even a dokkaebi may not find a bush to hide in the face of such an event."

"That is true, fear pervades and leaves no stones untouched. But in any case brother Han. The reforms have opened up much revenue and opportunities for the government and the masses," Yunbok took a sip from his cup, needing some place to focus his attention as he could feel Kyoung-mi's eyes on him. It was highly unusual for anyone to invite a family member, especially a woman, when the guest was not part of the family. He wondered what Young-joon was thinking of.

"That is true. The range of commodities and foreign goods have increased. We have seen an impressive range of them earlier today. Even I am surprised despite the business this family is in. Almost everyone has a finger in some form of manufacture and merchantising," Young-joon said thoughtfully. "But still, there will some who will not reap the benefits."

"You are refering to the poorer peasants."

"What you have done for those three men has set me thinking," Young-joon leaned forward, eager to share his idea. "With what little means you have, you are willing to extend a helping hand. Why should I not do the same?"

"That is..." Was he serious, Yun-bok wondered.

"It has been gnawing on my mind all this while, even as a boy, I have this aspiration. The poor should not be discarded and forgotten, they too have a part, have the means to contribute if they are willing. I will make it possible for them to do so."

"And what do you plan to do?" Yun-bok could not help but smiled at Young-joon's enthusiasm.

"A school."

Startled, Yunbok looked at Kyoung-mi. She had been so silent ever since she came in, he had temporarily forgotten she was there. Her gaze was so intense that he had to look elsewhere, feeling awkward.

"You have read my mind, cousin," Young-joon slapped the soban in agreement, rocking the cups.

"Where do you intend to set up a school, brother Han?" If Young-joon wanted to carry out his endeavour, Yunbok had a proposal to offer.

"At one of the outlying villages. There are schools in this town."

"Then, if I may. If brother Han really wished to set up a school, the village near the paper mill is in need of assistance. The gye for the seodang the villagers have come up with can only provide limited supplies. There is still a lack of materials."

"Indeed!" Young-joon was pleased that he could start so quickly on a project he had been wanting to do. "I shall look into it. I hope my father will fully support me in this."

"Have you not discussed this before with your father?" Yun-bok was surprised.

"Er... well," Young-joon looked apprehensive. "I guess I never really talk to him about it."

Yun-bok understood what he was not saying. Being an only son, he was likely to have been groomed to an exacting standard under his father. Strictured to follow a regimen that brooked no opportunity to expand beyond. In a way, it was much like how he was brought up by his foster father. Ever since he stepped into his house, he was set on the boat of his foster father's ambitions that never deviated from the path. Perhaps part of it was his own fault, he had never tried to think beyond. His seclusion was no help either. So great was his foster father's fear that his real identity would be discovered that there was no opportunity for him to even foster a stray thought in any direction.

"Ultimately, it is your decision to bring it up to him," Yun-bok tried to encourage his friend. "If you will forgive my saying this, 'Great souls have wills; feeble ones have only wishes.' If you never try, how do you know he will not accept? How will you find your niche, brother Han? Your place in this world?"

"You are right, brother Seo. I must indeed strive to find my place," Young-joon'e eyes were alight with motivation. At this moment, a servant outside the door coughed to get his attention.

"Young master, the warehouse supervisor wishes to see you."

"Ah! Excuse me for a moment, brother Seo." Young-joon said apologetically, getting up. "I'll be back soon."

Yunbok watched him leave with misgivings while Kyoung-mi was torn between delight and apprehension for she felt more drawn to Yunbok than ever before. Especially after he was able draw out the unvoiced sentiments of her cousin and infused belief and determination in him. None of her cousin's friends had ever encouraged him in a positive direction and she was pleased he had finally come across someone who would provide some guidance. With some disappointment, she watched as Yunbok reached for his cup, seeming disinclined to talk to her.

Heon-sook looked at the both of them. It was obvious that this Mr Seo was wary of her mistress so instead of fearing the young man would accost her mistress, she was rather afraid it would be her mistress who would do something indecorous. She had seen the look in her mistress's eyes, her desires shining so brightly she was surprised the young master was ignorant of it. Mr Seo would have been aware, else why would he studiously not looked at her mistress?

His hand was as dark as his face, yet the fingers were slim and taper. Kyoung-mi wondered how they would feel against her own. She reached out for the wine bottle when he sat down the cup and leaned forward to fill it, noting with a little hurt that he withdrew his hand completely to avoid any contact. That was of course, appropriate and yet somehow, she felt that he was a little afraid of her. Why?

"Brother Seo, you need not fear a frail woman."

He made no answer to that statement. What was he supposed to say? Yes, he was afraid of her. That painting was a great danger to him in her hands, her interest in him was yet another pitfall, not so much for him as for her.

"Or are you adamantly against me for taking that painting?" she looked searchingly at him.

Yunbok fixed his eyes on the soban lest she saw his quandary. He almost certainly was not happy but he couldn't very well say so. It would be rude.

"But it is right you would think little of this woman," she continued when he remained silent. "I have committed thievery by unfair means and yet, brother Seo, I hope you would be generous to forgive a woman's weakness for desiring an item so fair and handsome."

For all her apologies, it didn't sound like she was going to return it to him and he wondered how was he going to convince her to give it up. Unless he offered something in return? "Will you accept a replacement?" he said finally. "The painting is not as fair and handsome as you think it is, there are faults within that should remain under darkness."

Her brow furrowed. Faults in the painting? She was not sure she understood. "Brother Seo, although I am no art expert, I failed to see these faults that you refer to."

"I...," he stopped as the door opened to reveal a beaming Young-joon.

"Come, brother Seo! I have arranged a surprise for you," he beckoned. Yunbok got up reluctantly, wishing Young-joon had been delayed longer. He was certain he could persuade Kyoung-mi to a trade.

"Brother Han, you are already very generous today, surely you need not go through further troubles?"

"No trouble at all!" Young-joon nodded to Kyoung-mi. "We will be late, cousin. You need not wait. Come, brother Seo."

She could not help but be annoyed with Young-joon for interrupting her conversation with brother Seo. Having a fair idea where her cousin would be bringing his guest, that added more ill humor to her feelings as she watched them leave.

Amused by Young-joon's boisterous excitement, Yunbok followed him out to a snow covered street and down past the market place. It was still as crowded as ever. The lanterns in the darkness cast beautiful warm glows on the surroundings and the air was filled with the sound of murmuring voices and aroma of food from the jumak. Presently, they came to an establishment. Richly dressed men were trooping through a pair of gates hung with large red lanterns from which music and raucous laughter could be heard. A gibang? What did Young- joon have in mind?

"Er...brother Han, I don't think I want to...," Yunbok halted in dismay. Young-joon was not one of those libertine men who caroused at abandon, was he?

"No, no, you must come. You can't miss this!" seeing that Yunbok was going to turn away, Young-joon hooked him by the elbow and tugged him past the gates and bowing attendants and into the main courtyard, calling aloud for someone. Idle gisaengs standing nearby simpered at customers and at them.

A gisaeng came up to them, exchanging words Yunbok could not hear with Young-joon. He fidgetted uncomfortably. The sight of the gibang brought back memories he thought he had buried forever. It was a little different from the one in Hanseong, not as huge or as noisy but still, it raised the ghosts of the past . A young gisaeng brushed pass him, he winced as she directed a bold invitation at him with her eyes in passing even as she greeted a customer jovially. His toes twitched in response to his desire to get out of there. Young-joon grabbed his arm again, forestalling him and pulled him behind the gibang and past the garden, heading for a cluster of small houses tucked away in a corner.

"You cannot miss this, brother Seo. This friend of mine does not play for anyone except for a close circle of sympathetic associates. I waited for so long before I could even get her to include me. Do you know that I would have waited forever? It's so fortunate she agreed to play for us tonight." Young-joon was speaking so fast that his words were garbled to Yunbok.

"What are you talking about?" he asked in bewilderment.

"The best gayageum player in this town!" Young-joon enthused.

Gayageum? Yunbok felt a wrench in his heart. He was not sure he wanted to hear this player.

"The music she plays is heavenly."

"Brother Han...," Yunbok tried to back out again but Young-joon dragged him to the small house nearest the garden, calling aloud. The door opened and a young maid held the pangchang aside for them. "No .. I think I ..," protested Yunbok, trying to dig in his heels at the tiny porch. The girl watched the tussle in astonishment.

"Don't be shy, brother Seo, come in," insisted Young-joon, clamping down on his friend's elbow not knowing Yunbok could easily flip him aside if he wanted to.

"It's not that..."

The voices attracted the attention of the woman waiting inside. One, she could identify as young master Han. The other was probably his guest. From the sound of it, master Han's guest was not enthusiastic about entertainment he was about to receive. That was surprising, considering the number of men who tried to be one of her few selected guests. She peered curiously through the screen stretched across the doorway of the anteroom, plucking the strings of her gayageum softly. Young-joon finally stumbled in with his reluctant guest who almost fell with the overzealous tug from him. The door was closed and the pangchang drapped once more across the entrance to prevent any draft.

"Really, brother Han, there's no need for the use of force," Yunbok protested as he righted himself.

"I'm sorry, brother Seo but you really must enjoy this music. What kind of brother am I if I can't share this with you? Sit! Sit!" Young-joon gestured to the cushions on the floor.

That voice. Her hands stilled, her heart began to hammer. It could not be. It sounded familiar and yet strangely unusual. She looked through the screen and time seemed to freeze for her. That figure. Although Young-joon's guest was turned away from her, that figure was very familiar. Then he turned and she saw his side profile and amazement held her for a moment before joy suffused her. Stifling the impulse to call him, she clenched her hands as she stared at him.

_Painter, where have you been? How have you been? I have missed you._ She looked down, blinking away her tears as she recalled his last words to her before she departed from Hanseong. He had wanted the best for her but she had failed to fulfill his wishes. What would he say now if he knew? Quickly, she dried her tears. It would not do for master Han to see her

"Her music must have bedeviled you then," Yunbok sighed, sitting down on the cushions. Perhaps it was better to humour Young-joon. He had a feeling he would be dragged back again if he try to leave.

The maid brought in a soban, jug of wine, cups and made sure the brazier was near enough.

"Do you not believe me? Haha, wait till you hear it, brother Seo. Then you will be as bedeviled as me! Let the music begin," Young-joon nodded to someone behind Yun-bok and offered a toast.

Stifling a sigh, Yunbok picked up his cup to return the toast and froze as the strains of the gayageum reached his ears. It was Dong Chon Nion Lo, Han Jang. His hand shook and he forgot all about the toast. No, that could not be. This style of play. There was only one person who could reach into him that way. Slowly, he turned his head towards the anteroom. A streak of pain lanced through him, so acute was it that he was surprised he was not bleeding. No, it could not be. But it was. It was her. How could it be? His head snapped back and he downed the cup that threatened to spill.

"Are you all right?" Young-joon was puzzled by Yunbok's shaken demeanor.

It was hard to speak, his throat felt constricted but Yunbok managed to croak, "I'm just surprised by her skill." Trying to distract himself from the turmoil roiling within, he filled Young-joon's cup.

"There, what did I say?" Young-joon was pleased and gazed adoringly towards the screen. Was that a new song she was playing?

Yunbok was torn between wanting to leave and wanting to stay. His mind was filled with questions. What was she doing here? What was she doing back at a gibang? Was she not a free woman now? He had thought she would have gone back to her family. But then, what did he know of her family? He realized there was much he did not know of her background, he had never thought to ask in those misty dreamy confusing days back at Hanseong. Absorbed with the questions whirling in his head, he was lost to his surroundings.

As she played, she wished he would turn to face her. All she could see of him was a partial profile. Even so, she was startled to see the darkness of his skin against the snow white of his coat collar. Had he been laboring in the sun? But why? His cheeks were lean, the line of his jaw sharper. His frame seemed to be slimmer too with a hint of wiry strength. How far different he looked from his old self at Hanseong. What had he been doing to himself all these years? She longed to talk to him. Her fingers moved over the strings. By the time the last note died away, it was late into the night and curfew was in effect.

Ae-young wondered what was ailing young master Han's guest. After that first look at her mistress, he seemed to go off into a daze, staring at his wine cup but not drinking much. It was most unusual. Newcomers were often enthusiastic in their appreciation but not this young man. Young master Han on the other hand, was overly generous with the wine bottle this night, very much unlike his usual conduct when he came to her mistress's home. She was not surprised when he began to shout after the music ended.

"Tha...that was great!"

Yun-bok looked at him, startled out of his reflections. "Brother Han, are you drunk?"

"Dru..u.u..unk? Whooooo says so?" face flushed, eyes overbright, Young-joon hiccuped as he lifted his wine cup. Half the contents spilled over onto the floor.

"Enough, brother," Yun-bok took away the cup and lunged to grab Young-joon as he slumped backwards. How was he to get Young-joon back to his house like this? He lowered his friend gently to the floor and took off Young-joon's gat, knocked askew, straightened the pungcha and gently slapped his face. "Brother Han, wake up."

"I'll get him some cold cloths." Jeong-hyang said behind him. Ae-young looked with surprise at her mistress who rarely left the anteromm and talked to her guests face to face. But tonight, she did so for this young man. Why? Yun-bok nodded his thanks when Jeong-hyang came back with a basin, accepting the wet cloth and pressed it to his fiend's face. It only made him mumble.

"You might want to put this in his mouth," she offered him a small opened pot. He peered into it curiously.

"What's that?"

"Bitter herbs, it will wake him up for a time...Painter," she said, willing him to look at her. Up close, she could see that there was a weathered look to him, as if he had been buffeted and reconditioned by the winds of adversity. More then ever, she wished to know what had happened to him these four years. Clearly, his life had been difficult.

Yunbok reached into the pot silently, forced opened Young-joon's mouth and dropped a pinch of the herbs onto his tongue.

"Paaughhhh!" Young-joon spluttered, almost knocking Yun-bok over as he sat up suddenly. Combined with the cold wet cloth, he looked almost lucid.

"Brother Han, it's time to go home. Do you understand?" Yunbok spoke slowly and loudly, knowing drunkened men tend to have their senses befuddled.

"Whaaa...is it?" Young-joon muttered, focusing his eyes with effort. He saw Jeong-hyang and grabbed her arm. "Ahh! Jeong-hyang, that wassss lovely...play...plaaay for meee again."

"Enough, brother. It's getting late, it's time for you to be in bed, at home. Come."

Jeong-hyang did not shake off Young-joon's hand, knowing he was too drunk to realize what he was doing. Besides, it was not as if she was alone with him. She watched in amazement as Yunbok heaved him to his feet, holding one of Young-joon's arms over his shoulder to support his weight. He moved with a lithe grace and strength she had never seen in him before. Ae-young hastily replaced the gat on Young-joon's head. At the door, Yunbok paused and looked back.

"Our apologies for the disorder," he said simply and somehow managed to get Young-joon to slip his feet into his shoes and guide him away.

She stood at the door and watched them until they could not be seen anymore. Her heart was aching from the cool indifference Yun-bok exhibited. Or was it reserve? Why?

"Really, why must you drink so much?" Yun-bok muttered, half wondering if he should deliver a kick to Young-joon as his friend lurched into the wall for the umpteenth time. He was getting tired from supporting his weight. Thankfully the streets were deserted else they would be knocking into people. The night watchmen were not around at the moment but he expected to run into them soon if he failed to get Young-joon back home. Prudently, he had taken note of the landmarks when they were on the way to the gibang earlier but now, they were in the small winding roads off the main streets and he was not sure where to turn.

"Which way, Young-joon? Come on, we must be getting near." he cajoled, shaking his friend who opened blurry eyes.

"...right," Young-joon mumbled.

Yunbok sighed and took the right as indicated. He was vastly relieved to see the front gate of the Han residence. A servant opened the gate to his calls and quickly lent a hand in supporting Young-joon into the house. Despite being told not to wait for her cousin, Kyoung-mi was wide awake and hastened to the daecheong when she heard the calls.

"He's just had too much to drink," Yunbok assured her when he saw her anxiety.

"Oh," she followed them as they half dragged her cousin to his study room and deposited him into his bedding in his bedroom. Yunbok let the servant take care of his master and stumbled out. He was dead tired.

Seeing his exhaustion and desiring to ease his weariness, Kyoung suggested, "Brother Seo, you have better spend the night here since the gates are closed."

It sounded heavenly to him, he just want somewhere to rest his aching head. "That will be very nice," he muttered, turning to follow her to a room diagonally opposite the study room. She opened the door before hastening away. He tossed his gat into the darkness of the room, too tired to bother lighting the candle and sat down, rubbing his throbbing head, trying to sort out his thoughts.

"Brother Seo?" he turned to see Kyoung-mi inside the door with a lighted candle. Setting down a basin of water, she offered him a towel. "I'm sorry, I called but you did not answer."

"Sorry to put you to so much troubles," he accepted the towel, too weary to bother with anything else. The towel was warm and a blessed balm to his cold face. He heard her moving around and looked up to see she had lit the candle in the room, hung his gat on the hook and laid out the bedding. "Thank you," he bowed as he handed back the towel to her.

"No need, brother Seo. You have brought my cousin home safe and sound, I'm grateful," she smiled. "Have a good night."

He was weary but not so tired as to forget to lock the door behind her once she was gone. Knuckling the ache on his brow, he removed his coat and considered hanging it up but opted to drape it across the desk. It was too much bother to fumble with the hwattae. The pungcha also went onto the desk. Gratefully, he sank into the haven of the thick bedding. Groggily he blew out the candle and covered himself.

_Hyangya, what are you doing here?_

* * *

_Korean Words_

_Aemak - permanent stall_  
_Chuljapyo - receipt_  
_Dokkaebi - supernatural being_  
_Eupchi - offices of the local admistrators_  
_Geogan - brokers_  
_Gut - ritual performed by shamans_  
_Hwattae - clothes hanger_  
_Jangsi - market held every five days_  
_Jeom - fortune telling_  
_Jokja - frame for artwork_  
_Jumak - tavern_  
_Minchon - poor peasant neighbourhood_  
_Moknojujeom - standing bar_  
_Ocheopbansang - meal with 5 side dishes_  
_Pungcha - winter cap_  
_Sobalmakgeollijip - pub where makgeolli is serve in a bowl_


	5. Chapter 5

**Ipdong 1781**

Yunbok opened his eyes to a strange room. Confused, he looked around before he recollected where he was. He must have been so tired that his sleep was deep and untroubled. His head was clear and he felt well rested. From the amount of light streaming through the windows, it must be midmorning. He had never slept so late. Hurriedly, he got up and tidied up the room. Winter was the busiest time for the paper mill and here he was, slacking. Suk-kwon would surely have much to say when he got back.

There was a basin and a towel by the door when he looked out, intending to find a servant. Did she forget to bring them with her last night? But no, the water was warm. He shrugged mentally, a servant probably deposited them there earlier. He brought them into the room and did his ablution. Putting on his coat and gat, he opened the door, spied a servant walking by and asked for directions. As he was returning from the outhouse, he came to a stop by the frozen lotus pond in the wintry garden, thinking of the night before.

After four years, providence had allowed them to meet again. But should he see her? Did he really want to renew their relationship? If he did, what kind of association would it be? Friends certainly but with her, perhaps it was not so defined. He frowned at that thought, that was certainly confusing. Did he not sort it out already? But lest he forget, even though he had successfully concealed himself, the threat hanging over his head was too hazardous, he had no desire to involve her. That would just negate the reason why they parted ways in Hanseong. The cause might be different but the exigency was the same. Moreover, he should not forget that he had intended her to completely forge a new life for herself. No, he would not see her. Best he keep away from her.

At that moment, Young-joon came looking for him after failing to find him in the guest room. Spotting Yunbok in the garden, he made his way over to him and was puzzled to see an air of dejection hanging over his friend.

"Brother Seo, what troubles you this morning?" he asked, startling Yunbok who did not hear his approach.

"It's nothing." Yunbok smiled. "I see you are in fine form this morning."

"Oh, that was really rude of me last night." Young-joon said, chagrined. "You are our guest and you ended up taking care of me and had to help me home. I'm so sorry for the trouble I caused. I should not have indulged so much."

"It is all right, brother Han. I'm glad you're not suffering from any ill effects," Yunbok decided he had better get moving. "It's far into the morning, I have to bid you farewell. I must return to the paper mill. It's the busiest time for us and I must not neglect my duties."

"I understand, brother Seo. But it is a bad host to send away a guest with an empty stomach. Break fast before you go," urged Young-joon. "Too, I wish to accompany you so that I'll know the location of the paper mill. I hope you have not forgotten my wish for a tour?"

Since Young-joon was adamant, Yunbok acquiesced to breaking fast with him before setting off. As he mounted the horse a servant led out for him, Kyoung-mi hurried out and presented him with a wrapped chanhap.

"Brother Seo, please bring along these jeonyueo."

"Er..I'm afraid I've made enough impositions," he declined politely.

"The same can be said for us. Please accept it," she insisted.

Young-joon looked on in amusement. It seemed that his cousin had taken a liking to brother Seo. No wonder he had not seen her all morning, she must have been busy in the kitchen. Come to think of it, he would not mind if they ended up together. Seeing the disappointment on Kyoung-mi's face, he decided to pitch in. "Come now, brother Seo. She has been in the kitchen since early in the morning," he chided humourously, grinning as his cousin turned red. "The least you can do is accept graciously."

Out of the frying pan into the fire, Yunbok groaned inwardly. He feared it would progress beyond his control if he didn't put a stop to her delusions and yet he had no reason to repudiate her without offending Young-joon. He would have to find a way to get back that painting and made clear his stance to her as soon as possible. Reluctantly, he accepted the offering, bowed his thanks and cantered his horse out into the street. Young-joon grinned at Kyoung-mi, shaking his head at her in mock censure when she made a face at him before he followed after.

Out in the busy streets, they slowed the horses to a walk amidst the crowd as they wound their way to the east gate. Nudging his horse until it was abreast of Yunbok, Young-joon looked over to his friend. "Well, what do you think of my cousin, brother Seo?" he said, interested to get his opinion.

Shooting a startled look at Young-joon, Yunbok could only say weakly, "Ah, she's a nice girl." How to convey his disinterest?

"Nice girl. Is that all you can say?" Young-joon laughed. "My cousin came to stay with us since she was seven. Her parents passed on early, due to some sickness they contracted from a trip to China. We are the nearest blood relatives to her so my father went to fetch her as soon as he received the news. Ahh," he smiled fondly as he reminiscence. "She was a little thing then. A little wild and could not stop crying. I thought she would cry a river before she finally ceased," he chuckled, shaking his head. "When we grew older, aboji thought we might make a match," he added as an afterthought.

That was indeed welcome news to Yunbok. "And are you?"

"Ah... I thought...if he had said I must marry her, I will obey," Young-joon said pensively. "Brother Seo, I'm twenty-one. Although it is usual to marry early, to me, that's too soon to settle down. So I asked aboji for some time to consider it. Then...," he hesitated.

"What?" Yun-bok asked curiously.

"I find my thoughts are with someone else," a red flush crept up Young-joon's face at that confession.

"Oh who?"

"We met her last night. The gayageum player. Jeong-hyang," Young-joon grinned at Yun-bok who looked thunderstruck. "Surprising, isn't it?" he said, misunderstanding his friend's shock. "I'm not sure what my father will say if I choose to marry someone formerly from the lower class."

For a moment Yunbok didn't know what to say. A part of him wanted to rigorously deny that Young-joon had the right to pursue and then he remembered his resolution, his words to her. No, he had no right to protest. If she accepted Young-joon, she would have a good life. "If you could put in fair words and example," he said slowly, "your father might not object. Considering the social changes, marrying a lower class partner is hardly setting a precedent with the several interclass unions that have already happened."

"Really?" Young-joon perked up at that. "It never occurred to me."

"What matters of course, is what she thinks," said Yunbok with thinking and then winced. Why did he add that? Of course, Young-joon would take her opinions into consideration.

"Of course! You are right, brother Seo!" The day brightened considerably for Young-joon, pleased that his friend was supportive. The others would most likely mock him for lowering himself. Finding a way to woo and win Jeong-hyang's heart should not be difficult. Preoccupied with his plans of courtship, he did not notice Yun-bok's troubled countenance. "But what about you, brother Seo?" he said after sometime, coming back down from his dreams and plans.

"What about me?"

"Do you have a beloved?"

"No, we parted ways five years ago," Yunbok sighed. He wondered how she would react to Young-joon's proposal. There was no reason for her to refuse it and every reason to accept.

"That is unfortunate," Young-joon apologized, observing the shadow on his friend's face. "But perhaps there is another flower waiting for you yet," he said brightly, thinking of Kyoung-mi.

"Perhaps," Yunbok said with amusement for he knew the journey for him was a lonely one till the end. Sprinkled with companions for a time perhaps but eventually, solitude at the setting of his life. It was something he was not looking forward to but then, there were still years to come. He need not trouble himself with it at present. A shout alerted him to his surroundings and he realised he had allowed his horse to wander too close to the stalls. A few angry shopkeepers yelled at him until he pulled his horse away. Keeping a tight hold on the reins, he did not relax until they had reached the gates.

Past the gates, they kicked their horses into a trot. The cold wind seemed to sweep away the fierce ache in Yun-bok's heart until a dull throb remained. He resolved to try harder to come to terms with it but really he was not sure what he himself was about. There was absolutely no reason to harbour such ill feelings. Giving himself a shake, he forced his attention on his surroundings. Along the way to the village, he pointed out the homes of the scholar officials to the north-west. Having relatively little knowledge or contact with those, Young-joon had little information to offer for with the reformation of local autonomy, hyangyak between yangban and sangmin had been reduced, leaving the local chongye to deal directly with the magistrates of the districts.

Desiring to show Young-joon the house that functioned as a school, Yunbok made a stop in the village. The house was small. Orginally it had comprised of sarang, anbang and daecheong but the jangjimun that formed the barriers for the rooms had been removed, leaving a large open space. A small stand with brushes, yeonjeok stood on top a mungap under the closed windows. Opening the the mungap, Yunbok showed the handful of meok and byeoru and the few books piled neatly within. Of papers there were plenty. Stacked in the corner of the room near the desk were mats. Young-joon nodded as he took stock of what was needed the most; writing tools and books. Simple enough to get. A few children gathered outside, curious to see horses at the seodang.

"Sonsaengnim!" they greeted when they saw Yunbok. "Are there classes today?"

"No, no. I just brought a friend of mine to see the school," Yunbok said as Young-joon looked at him in astonishment. "This is master Han."

"Master Han," they chorused, looking at Young-joon's fine silk clothes with wonder.

"So Mr Seo is your teacher, how do you find his teaching?" Young-joon smiled down at the little faces.

"He tells us jokes!" said a boy with a round face.

"His stories are interesting, I like to hear them," put in another.

"Never get him angry," one boy dared to say.

"I want to paint like him, his drawings are beautiful."

"My sister wants to marry him!" one piped up mischievously. The others laughed.

"All right, enough. Make sure you complete the homework I gave you or you'll all get in trouble," Yunbok said, shooing them off. He detained one of the boys. "II Sung, is haraboji at home?"

"Yes sonsaengnim, " the boy nodded.

"All right. Be off with you."

"You didn't tell me you teach as well," Young-joon said as the boy scampered away to join his friends. What other surprises was his friend hiding away, he wondered as he waited for Yunbok to lock up the school.

"Only off-season," said Yunbok, untying the reins of his horse from the short fence of the vegetable patch. "With less chores, I've more free time so I decided to teach. Let's stop by the village chief's house, I have to give him these books that I bought." Leading the horse by the reins, he made his way to Yoo Dae-jung's home. Presently, they reached a modest house with a straw-thatched roof, bush clover fence and a pair of leaning bamboo gates. While Yun-bok delivered the books, Young-joon waited for him outside the gates. A beaming old man came out to greet Yunbok, receiving the books with expressive pleasure.

Yunbok declined payment when it was offered. "It is all right, sir. There isn't any need for payment. I just hope you will find them useful."

"I knew you would say that," Dae-jung shook his head just as a young girl hurried out from the kitchen of the house and proffered a neat stack of clothing to Yunbok.

"Sonsaengnim, my mother made these winter clothing for you and master Suk-kwon, please accept them," she said with a shy smile.

"Yes indeed, you must accept, Mr Seo," Dae-jung insisted when Yunbok refused to take it. "Take them as payment for the books."

"But..."

"Mr Seo, surely you would not disparage the wishes of an old man?" chided Dae-jung.

To refuse further was to cause offense so Yunbok took the stack with a deep bow. "Thank you. I must take my leave, sir. My master will be looking for me."

Young-joon waited patiently as Yunbok tied the stack of clothes to the saddle and followed his friend to a trail leading to a small hill. A chuckle escaped him as he thought back on the scene.

"What are you laughing about?" Yunbok wondered what was it he found amusing.

"That girl. Didn't you see her bat her eyes at you?" Young-joon flirtingly mimicked the action at Yunbok.

"Oh please." Yunbok sighed, tired of the unwanted attention bestowed by the young women he came across and the incessant comments on his failure to take any action.

Widening his eyes, Young-joon directed them at Yunbok comically. "Her eyes were as large as a tiger, eating you up with hunger."

"Aigoo, since you know that, you left me to her mercy?" Yunbok pretended outrage. "You should have come with me so she can turn her attention to you. You're more handsome and a better catch."

"Oh no no, I'm too big a fish to be caught that way. I'll stick in her throat."

Bantering back and forth, they made their way to the paper mill. On the higher slopes, they paused to survey the snow white fields beyond the village.

"I've been thinking of those disturbing reports from Gyeonggi, Chung-cheong and this province," muttered Young-joon. "It is worrying, should crops failed to take root, we face catastrophe."

"Haraboji Yoo spoke of it," said Yunbok gravely. "The rumours are conflicting but everyone fear the farmlands have been disrupted. Wall breakages have been discovered, reservoirs and waterways are affected. What is worse, swarms of rodents and fauna have broken out and destroyed stores. If all of that happened, then there will be famine next year. Fear is fueling food prices."

"There will be hoarding," sighed Young-joon.

"Yes, people will rush to stockpile," agreed Yunbok. "I expect a call to contribute grain from towns and villages in from unaffected provinces like Gyeongsang."

"I will have to check with aboji, to see how we can help with the relief efforts," Young-joon said, thinking of the stocks in the warehouse.

"Contributions from Hansang will be greatly appreciated," Yunbok nodded approvingly. "Here we are," he said as they arrived at the workyard of the paper mill.

The smell was most alarming to Young-joon and he tried not to cough as the breeze wafted pungent fumes to him. The horses pricked their ears and shied uncertainly, settling down when the breeze died away. Keeping a distance away from the pots, he looked around as he followed Yunbok, trying to fathom the tasks the laborers were bending to and spied a couple of familiar faces. Ahhh, clearly his brother's faith had not been wrong. His friend went up to a tall solid looking man dipping a mold spread with whitish fibres into a vat. Was this brother Seo's master? The man looked up and the deep voice was astonishing.

"Well, well, rascal. You have seen fit to return eh?" Suk-kwon growled. "At what march of the sun were you supposed to be here?"

"Ah, sorry master...," began Yunbok but Young-joon interrupted, bowing to the older man in greeting.

"Please forgive him, sir. Not having seen brother Seo for some time, I imposed on him to stay for some drinks and irresponsibly delayed him. Please accept my apologies."

"And you are?" Suk-kwon demanded, though not unkindly. Amusement glittered in his eye as he examined Young-joon.

"Han Young-joon, of Hansang, sir."

"Ah, Hansang," Suk-kwon nodded. "Tell me young man, was it also your responsibility in bypassing geogan?"

"Indeed sir. Hansang have a strong presence throughout Choson and good relationship with the merchant guild. A slight infraction can be overlooked if rectification is made immediately. However, if we were to come to a formal arrangement, statute will be observed," said Young-joon firmly, subtly impressed with the air of wisdom and authority about the older man despite the stern look on his face.

"Indeed," Suk-kown liked what he saw for Young-joon's demeanor was well-mannered and his gaze was clear and direct. "Proposals from Hansang will be warmly considered."

The answer pleased Young-joon. "If I may? Would it be possible to tour the paper mill on another day? I will be interested to learn the process of paper making."

"The pursuit of knowledge! You are welcome to visit," Suk-kwon said heartily.

"Thank you. I'll take my leave then," Young-joon bowed before turning to Yun-bok. "Well brother Seo, I must get back to the warehouse. I'll come by when my father has returned from his business trip. I'll send you a message. Until then, please take care."

"Brother Han. I'll be waiting for the message," Yun-bok handed the reins of his horse to Young-joon but not before he removed the chanhap and clothing. He waved as Young-joon trotted off, leading the second horse behind him and watched until his friend had vanished from sight. A cough behind turned him around and Suk-kwon eyed him impatiently.

"Yes, yes, master, I'll get to work. Here," he tossed the food package to Suk-kwon who caught it deftly and turned in the direction of his house, intending to change into work clothes.

"What's this?" Suk-kwon untied the cloth. "Ooooh, jeonyueo." Heads came up at that and the men around began to gather. There was something folded across the cakes and he pulled it out. "But what is this?" he asked when he realised it was an embroidered handkerchief. Yunbok stopped short.

"What?" he looked incomprehendingly at the handkerchief Suk-kwon was waving around in a mincing manner. The men rumbled in laughter.

"What have you been up to, rascal?! This is a lady's handkerchief, have you been courting some woman?"

At that, the men broke into teasing calls.

"Seo Yong finally has a lady love!"

"Who is she?"

"Is she pretty?"

"Introduce me to a woman, brother Seo! I need another wife!"

"Get her to cook for us!"

"Why did she...?" Yunbok snatched the handkerchief from Suk-kwon's hand in exasperation. Closing his ears to his colleagues' calls, he marched to his house and deposited the handkerchief and winter clothing on top of the bandaji. "Arrggghhh," he shook himself like a wet dog. How to untangle the mess he was in? Too annoyed to want to think of anything, he grabbed the handkerchief and dumped it into the drawer at the bottom, hardly able to look at it. Work would clear his head. He changed into a workjacket and went out to the woodyard. The elder Joon brother, Chang-su, was already there splitting logs.

"Let me do the wood, Chang-su, you can shift the wood piles," Yunbok held out his hand for the axe.

"Are you sure, sir?" the other man said doubtfully as he handed it over. The young man looked frail, would he be able to wield the axe?

"What's with the sir, Chang-su? I thought I asked you to stop calling me that," Yunbok placed a log on the tree stump and split it into two pieces.

"I know..s...," Chang-su stopped at the glare from Yunbok. "Er..., but it is inappropriate to address our benefactor by name."

"Chang-su, as far as I'm concerned, we are all brothers under the sun. What I do for you, you may do for me one day, so stop calling me sir! Besides, you're older than me. Should I stick a grey beard on myself to make it more convenient?"

Chang-su chuckled. Words just couldn't expressed his gratitude to Yunbok for not turning him and his brothers in to the authorities. That the young man had even offered them job opportunites and shelter at the hired workers quarters in the village despite what they had done had been astonishing. Such kindness and generosity were hard to come by. The rich merchants who had waxed fat on the lands they were cheated of had no such sympathies. Nor the manager of the warehouse they had worked at for a time. Hard pressed and starving, robbery had been their answer but the fates had intervened before it could turn even worse for them.

And he was humbled by Yunbok's faith. To hand so much money into his care with no reservations, he couldn't imagine himself doing the same thing. He couldn't help but wondered from where Yunbok hailed from. Chatter among the workers only revealed his philanthropic nature. The school, his unstinting contributions in many of the organized gye. The villagers had been hard put to limit his generosity. To them, the sun rose and set with Yunbok. He could say the same of himself and his brothers.

He watched a little anxiously as Yunbok set to with the axe. Sometimes, he felt master Suk-kwon was a little harsh with the young man, setting him tasks that seemed unsuitable for someone with such a frail frame but perhaps he should not underestimate the young man's capability. Appearances, apparently, could be deceiving. He shook his head and set to work to pile up the chopped wood. They worked until all the wood were stocked up neatly.

That night, Yunbok sat in the front room of Suk-kwon's house, tallying the produce of the day for it was the older man's turn to cook that week. He looked up when Suk-kwon brought in the soban.

"I say, master...," he wrinkled his nose when he looked at the dishes. Bap, tojangguk, kimchi and peonyuk bought from the village market.

"Have you heard of this proverb? Without rice, even the cleverest housewife cannot cook," Suk-kwon beetled his eyebrows.

Yunbok looked away, hiding his grin. "If you say so, master," he picked up his spoon and tasted the tojangguk. It wasn't bad and he ate hungrily.

"What's the story with the handkerchief?" Suk-kwon said after some time. There was something weighing on Yunbok, he felt.

"Nothing but trouble, master," Yunbok sighed.

"I hope you know what you are doing."

"I am not leading her on, she just... I don't know, got this idea in her head."

"She's hardly the only one. What are you going to do with the crowd waiting for you to say something?"

"I can't help what they think. Or what she thinks." It was so exasperating. Yunbok wished there was a way to drive home the message that he was not interested. Hang a sign on himself declaring his apathy to marriage perhaps? Women aside, he was not sure he should reveal the problem of the painting to his master. He'd preferred to solve it on his own rathen having to reveal his true idenity to the older man. And if and when the matter really got out of hand, he would then asked for advice.

"You, of all people, should know how a woman thinks ...," Suk-kwon stopped. "Oh, that's not exactly right either. Never mind. Why did you not make it clear to her before she took another step? Just give her any excuse, nip it in the bud before it bloom further."

"I... there's a complication," Yunbok sighed. "I need to keep the paths opened. Moving too soon may close too many of them. I do not wish to exacerbate a bad situation."

Suk-kwon put down his spoon, frowning at that revelation. He could see Yun-bok was not ready to discuss what the actual problem was. Pressing him would be useless. Rubbing his beard thoughtfully, he considered the words of his charge. He would have to trust Yun-bok to be able to bail himself out but if he could not, to come to him.

"All right. Let me know if you need my help."

"Yes, master."


	6. Chapter 6

**Daeseol 1781**

When old master Han reached Uiryeong, he stopped by the Hansang warehouse to check on recent developments before heading for home where his son and niece received him with warmth and joy at his safe return. Seated at the daecheong, he sipped from a cup of warm tea as Young-joon spoke of his duties at the warehouse. He was pleased his son had performed well in his absence. The warehouse supervisor had indicated that his son had been diligent which eased some of his worries. However, when he heard of the trouble both his son and niece had encountered on the way to the temple, he could only ponder on the problem.

"It is a troubling sign," he sighed, knocking out the ash in his pipe into the ashtray. "You were not hurt, Kyoung-miya?" he said gently to his niece, sitting quietly to one side.

"No, uncle."

"Brother Seo and I are agree that this is one of many adverse effects of the old reforms that should be addressed before the problem evolved to the point where civil conflict is inevitable," Young-joon said, pouring more tea for his father.

"Brother Seo?" old master Han murmured. "Ahhh, the young man who came to your aid. Did you say he helped those robbers instead of turning them in?"

"Yes, aboji. They were once landowners who lost their property through unscrupulous means and resorted to crime when their plight was further escalated by exploitation. Brother Seo did not choose to condemn them and instead provided an opportunity and means for them to return to honest ways. He is both wise and generous," Young-joon felt he could not sing praises enough of his friend.

"Indeed. An enterprising and sympathetic young man," old master Han nodded approvingly. He was pleased that Young-joon had made a good friend.

"Yes, aboji," Young-joon hesitated then took the plunge before he could lose his nerve. His father had been receptive thus far, surely this was the best chance. "Aboji, I have been thinking. With our resources, could we not try to provide the means for the poor to improve themselves?"

Old master Han said nothing and only looked at Young-joon. Inwardly, he was surprised that his son would spare a thought for the lower classes. He had gone about his tasks dutifully when Hansang provided relief efforts during a few crisis in the past and hardly displayed any empathy for the poor. His time had been spent learning the ropes of business or finding forms of entertainment with his friends. His seemingly ignorance and inability to extend his scope was a cause of misgivings. But now, it seemed that this new friend of his had opened up his eyes. It would be interesting to meet this young man who had invoked such a change.

"Aboji?" Young-koon wondered if his father disapproved. But how could that be?

"What do you propose?"

"A school, I have always wanted to open one for the poor."

"You have? Since when?" This was news to old master Han.

"For many years, sir." Encouraged by his father's receptive countenance, Young-joon continued. "When you brought me out to the villages, I can see they are in need of many things. A school will ensure that the poor would be able to invest in knowledge to defend themselves, to improve their lives and this nation in many ways."

Old master Han could hardly believe what he was hearing. Had his son been harbouring such sentiments for many years? But why hadn't he see it? "Why did you not speak of this before?"

"Aboji, fear and ignorance held my tongue and it would have remained so," Young-joon said sheepishly.

"What gave you the courage to free it then?" old master Han could guess the answer.

"By the example set by brother Seo. His confidence, sympathy and faith have accomplished much. I too, should not be afraid to do what is right." Young-joon looked appealingly at his father, hoping he would understand. "The seodang brother Seo is currently teaching at needs teaching materials. I can help with that," he took a deep breath and plunged on. "We have been discussing the effects of the earthquake on the Gyeonggi, Chung-cheong and Gyeongsang provinces. We have been lucky to escape the disaster that has befallen the rest of this province. Brother Seo expects an adverse situation to arise. I'm thinking we should begin preparations to give whatever aid we can render instead of waiting."

Old master Han stared at his son, feeling as if he was seeing him for the first time. His heart lightened considerably and he smiled with approval. Truly, he must see this young man who had affected such a change.

"That is indeed the reason why I have gone away two weeks," he said. "Government granaries have been opened and grain distributed to the affected provinces but it is not enough. I have made arrangements to buy available grain from Joella down south and send it on."

"You have, aboji! That is good to hear," Young-joon was pleased.

"I should like to meet this brother Seo. He sounds like a truly exceptional young man."

"I can invite him for a visit, aboji. Except that I think he's rather busy at the paper mill," Young-joon said eagerly.

"Paper mill? He works at a paper mill? Where?" old master Han was surprised that his son's friend was doing manual labour.

"The paper mill is at a village three miles east outside Uiryeong. His master, Suk-kwon, runs it. Aboji," Young-joon said hastily at his father when his expression turned inscrutable, "brother Seo is as learned as any scholar."

"Joona, that is not the issue here," chided old master Han. "His class background is of no concern as long as he is a upright young man."

Young-joon heaved a sigh of relief. In a way, his father's clarification on his position on class discrimination helped to alleviate his other concern. He would have to plan carefully.

"Aboji, I had to order paper from master Suk-kwon's paper mill as our stock was running too low but I had to bypass the geogan. The merchant guild have been recompensed but I suggest we formerly negotiate a permanent contract to prevent another incident."

Ah! Old master Han could not fault the initiative, even if it offended a member or two in the merchant guild. If his son continued to exert himself in such positive ways, his worries about him could be laid to rest. "Your proposal has merit. I will look into it. You have done well, Joona," he smiled as his son lit up at the praise.

"Aboji, can I take the day off tomorrow? I have arranged to visit the paper mill to learn more about the paper making process."

"That is fine with me. You can go," old master Han nodded thoughtfully.

"Uncle, may I accompany Samjong?"

Both men gave a visible start for they had totally forgotten that Kyoung-mi was in the daecheong as well. She had been so silent, listening to their their conversation that he would never know she was there had she not spoken up.

"Ah, my cousin has other processes to grind," Young-joon said immediately, grinning as Kyoung-mi flushed red.

"What processes?" old master Han was puzzled. His niece was not in the habit of going outdoors unless it was necessary.

"Why to see brother..," Young-joon began, merriment in his eyes.

"Cousin!" Kyoung-mi interrupted him in embarrassment.

"Oh, but that is most inappropriate, niece," old master Han shrewdly summed up what was about, hiding a smile as he stroke his beard. It looked like his hopes for a match between his son and Kyoung-mi would not be happening after all. He was not unsympathetic to the passions of the young, why, he and his wife had been most improper on a few occasions when they happened to see each other before their marriage. He smiled to see the downcast look on Kyoung-mi.

"But I believe you do need some fresh air," he shook his head at the bright smile that bloomed on her face. "Make sure you are all well wrapped up for the trip, it can get very cold."

"Yes aboji, I'll take good care of her," promised Young-joon.

In high spirits, he set off that evening for the gibang. He had been visiting almost every night, hoping that Jeong-hyang would allow him to see her but she had always turned him away. Thinking he had offended her, he had tried to find out the reason from the maid. Was it because he had been so drunk he had forgotten to leave behind a gift? That didn't sound like her. But then the maid had indicated he was not the only one she was refusing to see. None of her closed circle of associates had much success over the last several days. Her mistress was not sick, the maid was certain. Why then?

Ae-young looked out in response to his call. Ahh, it was young master Han again. It was unfortunate she would have to send him on his way. "My mistress does not wish to see anyone this evening, young master." She watched him stared longingly at the windows before slowly walking away.

"Who is it, Ae-young?"

"Young master Han, mistress," Ae-young closed the door and sat down, picking up the skirt she had been mending. The pensive distraction on Jeong-hyang's face made her wonder what she was thinking. Certainly it was not master Han.

Plucking softly at the strings of the gayageum, Jeong-hyang reflected on the past. It had been days. Why did he not come? Did he not know how much she wanted to talk to him? There were so many things she had not understood during those days at Hanseong, so many questions she would like answers to. Was something keeping him? Was he deliberately keeping away? Her fingers stilled. What was on his mind? If only she knew where to look for him, she would seek him out instead. A thought struck her.

"Ae-young, tell master Han I will play for him tonight." The girl gaped at her in astonishment. "Go, find him before he leaves."

Dropping the skirt, Ae-young hurried to the door and out to the gibang, staying out of the way of the men thronging the courtyard even as she searched. She saw him just as he passed the gates and ran after him. She managed to catch up to him before he had gone very far. With delight in his heart, he followed her back to the house, resolving not to drink so much. When the soban with refreshments was placed before him, he took tiny sips from his cup, listening to the music.

"The grace of your music warms the night, thank you," he said when the song ended.

"Your patronage is ever as kind, master Han," she said. "I hope your troubles have been resolved."

"Troubles?" Young-joon repeated blankly before it dawned on him she was referring to that night. "No, it was not troubles but freedom that directed my hand. I am sorry if my conduct has alarmed you."

"Freedom?"

"Yes," he nodded eagerly. "I had not the courage to free myself of the shackles bound to me until that day when my friend lifted the veil from my eyes."

"Your friend? Are you referring to the man who came with you?"

"Yes, my cousin and I owe him our lives. If he had not come as he did, we would have been killed by robbers. To honour my debt, I look upon him as a brother. The sincerity of his actions motivates my hand to a better purpose."

Jeong-hyang was not quite certain he was talking about the same person. As far as she knew, Yunbok did not display any martial abilities back in Hanseong. His skill was in painting. Could four years have changed him so much? "What actions had he taken?"

"To believe that the fallen can be redeemed, that there is nothing to fear when intentions are honorable, nothing will move forward if the heart had not the will for it," Young-joon's voice rose slightly. Ae-young stared at him as if he had stepped forth from another world. "The joy of such discovery," he examined the cup in his hands, suddenly feeling embarrassed for being so candid, "led me to over indulge that night. I hope I have not caused too much disturbance."

"There was no inconvenience, master Han," said Jeong-hyang, smoothing her fingers over the gayageum. "Your brother seemed upset however in coming here."

"Ah..," Young-joon wondered what excuse he could come up with. "I'm afraid I've been irresponsible and detained him further than he wanted. He had duties to attend to at the paper mill."

"Paper mill?"

"Yes, he works at the paper mill three miles east outside Uiryeong. So new are we to each other I have not the time to know him better," he said regretfully.

Manual labor? Was that possible? Given the state he was in now, could he not have chosen a better occupation? Brows furrowed, she tried to unravel the threads. "It is getting late, master Han," she hinted softly, desiring to be alone to think.

"Ahh...," he hesitated. "If I may speak?"

"There is no need to stand on ceremony, master Han," she said patiently.

"I...I must confess that my heart is captivated by the grace and beauty within this humble abode. I wish to offer a better and permanent adjustment to a place that befits such refinement. To provide comfort and every need till the end of days."

Ae-young gasped and looked at her mistress with round eyes. Jeong-hyang only looked at her gayageum. In another lifetime, she would have accepted. Young master Han was not Kim Jo-nyeon and never would be. When they first met, his innocence and honesty were endearing but he was not her Painter. The one who could weave himself into her music with her.

Regretfully, she lifted her eyes to meet his. "I appreciate the generous offer and your kindness in looking past this woman's low class status," she said sadly, watching the light dimmed in his eyes. "But my affections are with another."

Young-joon went white. It felt as if the world was crashing down on him. He could hardly breathe for the sharp disappointment filling him. Strong was the desire to argue against her decision but he held it in check. It was futile to persuade someone who had already lost her heart to someone else. Nor could he even consider forcing her. It was dishonorable. It would be akin to holding an empty vessel that would never bring him happiness.

"Young master, forget me," Jeong-hyang said gently, feeling sorry she had to hurt him. "In time, you will find someone who will truly give you her heart and all."

"I...understand," he pulled a small pouch from his coat, dropped it on the soban and stumbled blindly out of the house.

"Mistress," Ae-young said, half in protest but Jeong-hyang ignored her. The young man was upset now but he would recover after some time for she did not think his affections were so deeply engaged with her. He was young, impressionable and easily distracted. If she had every desire of securing him, she would have encouraged his attentions long ago but she hadn't. And even if she had, he would run foul of his family's expectations for him. It was fortunate he had declared his feelings and she could clear the air between them. There must not be any confusion when she seek out Yunbok.

Standing in the street outside the gibang, Young-joon did not know what to do. He looked this way and that. Nothing seemed to mean much to him anymore. Automatically, he wound his way home, head bowed. The servant who opened the door to his almost imperceptible knocks was surprised to see him back so early and unlike his cheerful self. Brushing aside concerned enquiries, Young-joon made his way to his room. That night, he could not sleep, tossing and turning in his bedroll. His thoughts returned to the time when he first heard of her in his visits to the gibang with his friends. To the time when he had sat patiently outside her house, listening to the music as she entertained other guests. To the time when to his joy, she had relented and accepted him among her clique. He had fallen in love at first sight and his feelings for her had grown stronger with every visit. Then that night, when he had gotten drunk, he saw her truly for the first time and her beauty had taken his breath away.

If only he knew his dreams were empty, if only he had known her earlier, would he have her heart? If...If...

* * *

Yunbok checked the sheets on the warmed shelves, peeling off each one when he was able to lift them and spread them out on the drying boards. Opposite him, Chang-su was doing the same with the other shelves. Once a board was filled, they moved it out to open air, where the sheets would dry further in the sun. They looked up at a call and saw a stranger in the workyard.

"Is Mr Seo here?" he said as he looked around inquiringly.

"Yes, can I help you?" Yunbok dried his hands on a rag and accepted the proffered letter. "Oh my," he muttered as he read it. The messenger had left by the time he finished it. He went through the woodyard, down the path to the creek then up to the mullebanga where Suk-kwon was filling the buckets and checking the sacks of pulp immersed in the water.

"Guess who's coming?" he said loudly over the sound of flowing water, waving the letter at Suk-kwon.

"No bets. It doesn't take a genius to figure it out. I'll win," Suk-kwon grinned.

"Are you sure, master?"

"Hmm ... every word that you uttered give you away," Suk-kwon pretended to think deeply. "Other than your brother Han, your "lady love" is also coming for a visit."

"Really, master, I just can't win," Yunbok sighed. His master's deduction ability was just too good. "What am I going to do?"

"Why are you asking me? Aren't you the one who said you can handle it? Weren't you the one who said all paths must be kept opened?"

"Aigoo, you'll be the death of me, master,' Yunbok heaved a sigh.

Seeing his distress, Suk-kwon dropped his teasing manner. "Look upon this as an opportunity to set things right or she will take the next step and you will find it more difficult to get yourself out," he said gravely. "Failure is a set back but by no means the end. Whatever comes, you must be prepared to bear it. You chose to take this path, remember what I said about choices?"

Rubbing his eyes wearily, Yunbok nodded. Suk-kwon clapped his shoulders affectionately.

"You're still young yet, but you're trying. I'll give you that. Fortune will surely smile on you," he lifted the buckets. "Oh, send Chang-sun to the village for some victuals, we can't have nothing to serve our guests."

"What, you're not going to impress them with your exemplary cooking skills?" Yunbok laughed, dodging as Suk-kwon aimed a kick at him.

Other than food preparation, Yunbok did nothing special and carried on with his tasks. That afternoon, a group of people arrived and he went up to receive them cordially. Young-joon's muted responses took him by surprise and he wondered what had happened. Why was his friend looking so cheerless? There were dark circles under his eyes too. Was he not sleeping well?

"Is the day too cold, brother Han?" he asked with some concern as he tied the reins of the horses to the fence of the workyard, well away from the fumes of the boiling pots.

"No..no, it's fine," Young-joon answered distractedly as Kyoung-mi looked on worriedly. "Please, show me the paper mill," he smiled wanly and indicated to the servant who had accompanied them to stay with the horses.

Perhaps he could find out what was ailing Young-joon later. Pointing to the nearby hilly terrain, Yunbok said, ""The first part of making paper is to cut the branches of one year old mulberry trees which we harvest up on the hills. This is usually done between winter and spring. That is the period before the fibers harden."

Young-joon nodded, attempting to listen attentively. After asking for a day off from his duties to learn paper making, this was no time to mope over matters of the heart . They moved from one processing station to another. Kyoung-mi listened and looked with interest at what the workers were doing. The smell from the pots was barely tolerable and she held the edge of her coat to her nose. She could not help but noticed the men were giving her strange speculative looks and nudging one another. It made her uneasy and uncomfortable and she drew her jangpot even closer around her, wondering what was it that was sparking their curiosity. In her distraction, her forearm brushed too close to a boiling pot. Young-joon and Yunbok turned at her cry of pain.

"Kyoung-miya, what has happened?" Young-joon asked anxiously, rushing to her side.

"It's nothing, I was careless," Kyoung-mi said apologetically, clenching the wounded arm to herself.

"I think we better get her indoors and take a look at that arm," said Yunbok as he looked around. "My house is nearer, this way."

He showed them to the daecheong and left to get some water from the kitchen. Heon-sook rolled up the sleeve to reveal a finger long scald. Carrying a basin of water, a small pot, a clean towel and a strip of cloth, Yunbok set them by the maid.

"Here, immerse that arm in the water as long as possible until you feel no pain. Then wipe dry and put on some of this ointment," he indicated the pot. "We often used it when we accidentally burn  
ourselves."

"I am sorry to have cause such trouble," Kyoung-mi said apologetically.

"It's no problem. I think you'd better rest here for a while. Shall we continue the tour, brother Han?" he looked at Young-joon who nodded.

"Rest cousin, we'll be back soon."

Once they had left, Kyoung-mi looked around the daecheong. Although small and spartan, it was neat and clean. Her eyes lingered on a row of brushes hung up in a brush stand in a corner. The door to the back room was not closed and she could see a paper tube hanging on the wall.

"Is there any more pain, mistress?" Heon-sook asked after some time.

"No," Kyoung-mi removed her arm from the basin of water. Heon-sook patted the wound dry, applied the ointment which felt soothing and bound it up with the cloth. Discourteous ti might be, Kyoung-mi wanted to explore the backroom but have no desire to have Heon-sook around.

"I'm somewhat thirsty, can you try to find some water for me?"

"All right, mistress."

Once the maid entered the kitchen, Kyoung-mi got up and headed to the backroom. Lightly, she touched the work jackets, quilts and beddings neatly stacked up on the bandaji. Her hand stretched forth to the paper tube. Surely he would have more paintings stored in it. She hesitated. Something white in the bottom drawer of the bandaji caught her eye. It was not completely shut. Pulling it opened, she saw the handkerchief she had put in the package of jeonyueo. It seemed he had carelessly tossed it into the drawer. The sight of it saddened her for it seemed her token was not accepted.

The small box in the drawer drew her attention. Her uncle had such a box too. Taking it out, she opened it to reveal two seals. The sight of them puzzled her. Why did he not want to stamp the painting when he had the seals? Her curiosity warred with her conscience. She tucked the box securely into the pouch under her coat when she heard footseps, hastily putting back the handkerchief and pushing the drawer shut. Heon-sook was surprised to see her mistress standing in the backroom.

"Mistress, what are you doing there?"

"Nothing, is that the water? Give it to me," Kyoung-mi avoided Heon-sook's eyes as the maid looked suspiciously at her and the bandaji. Finishing the water, she handed the bowl back to Heon-sook and went out to the porch, wondering where her cousin had gone to.

At the creek, Yunbok waited patiently as Young-joon stood staring at the water. His friend had said nothing after the tour and he rather suspected Young-joon heard not one word. That drawn sad look about him clearly revealed his unsettled state of mind. What had happened?

"Brother Han, is there anything I can help you with?" he said. For a long moment, Young-joon said nothing before mumbling in a low voice.

"Brother Seo, how does one heal a broken heart?" Young-joon looked as if he was going to cry, his shoulders slumped dejectedly. "I went to her last night," he continued morosely, crouching down. "She played her wonderful music and I tried to express my feelings but she would have none of it. She said.. she said her affections have been given to another. I was shattered."

Yunbok could hardly believe his ears. She rejected Young-joon? A little spark of joy began to dance in him and he shoved it away. What did he have to be happy about? He flinched when Young-joon moaned heartbrokenly. "What am I suppose to do now?"

"Is there no hope?"

"I would have tried to persuade her but there was something in her eyes that tells me any further attempts would be futile. I've seen it often in aboji. Once he makes up his mind, it would take a mountain to shift his decision."

Yunbok sighed and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Only time will heal the pain, brother Han. My words nor anyone's words now can offer much comfort but I offer it nevertheless. Let the pain out, brother. Shout it out, cry, whatever it is you do to relieve the hurt in times of trouble. And when you are done, cast your heart and mind in another direction. Look for the next best thing to focus on. In time, the bitterness of the cut will fade."

Cast his mind and heart in another direction? How was that possible? Young-joon stood up suddenly, ran up the path to the woodyard and grabbed the axe from the hand of a startled Chang-su. He began to swing at the log with all his might. Yunbok waved Chang-su back as he made to interfere. Wood chips flew everywhere as Young-joon struck relentlessly. Attracted by the unusually loud furious thuds of the axe against wood and grunts, concerned faces began to appear round the corner. Quietly, Yunbok sent his colleagues back to their work. He spotted Kyoung-mi and moved to stop her when she walked into the woodyard and saw what was happening.

"No, let him be."

"Why? Why is he doing this? " Kyoung-mi asked anxiously, flinching at the sight of her cousin's ferocity.

"He... just want to unburden himself, let him be. He will be all right," he put out an arm as she made to move past. "Please, he needs some time alone. Just wait at the house, I'll bring him there when he's done."

In a dilemma, she stood there, her gaze flicking from him to Young-joon. Perhaps he was right, perhaps her cousin needed this moment of time to expel his unhappiness. He had looked so out of sorts and silent that she had been beside herself with worry. She nodded, glanced at her cousin sadly and turned back to the house.

Seating himself on a wood stack, Yunbok kept watch over Young-joon as he hacked away at the logs. Deciding that he was needed more at the workyard, Chang-su vanished. His master came by and simply shook his head, but asked no questions. It was dusk when Young-joon was spent. By then, he had practically chopped up most of the logs. Picking up his friend's discarded overcoat and gat, Yunbok approached him quietly.

"Come brother, let's go," Yunbok gently shook his shoulder, removing the axe from his hand. Numbly, Young-joon let himself be led like a child to the house. Kyoung-mi was shocked to see him in such a state, sweat streaming off him, eyes that looked so empty. Yun-bok spread out a spare bedding in the backroom and let Young-joon take his rest.

"I think your cousin has best spend the night here, he's in no condition to ride back," Yunbok said quietly to Kyoung-mi. "I'll escort you home. The gates will be closely presently if we do not start back right now."

He threw on his overcoat, tied on his pungcha and gat before going out to have the servant ready the horses. Worry and guilt warred within Kyoung-mi as she looked at the back room. Heon-sook tugged at her when Yunbok called and they went out to the courtyard where the servant helped them to mount. As they rode away, she glanced back at the house once more before directing her eyes to the front where Yunbok was leading the way on his horse, torch in hand for it was getting dark rapidly. The box felt like a lead stone in the pouch, weighing her down with her crime. She bit her lip as desire warred with honour. She must find out what it was that brother Seo was hiding.

They made it back to Uiryeong in good time. After a quick bow to Kyoung-mi at the courtyard, Yunbok went to pay his respects to old master Han and to explain why his son was not returning home that day. When he entered the main study room, old master Han invited him to sit down. When Yunbok seated himself, he was startled to see the paintings hung behind the old man.

"Really, the passions of the young," old master Han sighed after hearing what Young-joon had done and scrutinized Yunbok minutely. The young man who did not exactly look as he visualised. Smaller than he expected, young but with none of the fledgling deportment. Instead there was a measured flavor about him, with a pinch of reserve.

"It is only a minor setback, sir. He will recover."

"He will need something to distract him ...," old master Han mused. "He had proposed a school for the poor and is keen in providing for the seodang you are in charge of. I will let him devote his energies in that when he comes back. It is not much but it should be sufficient."

"That is wise, sir," Yunbok bowed. "if there is nothing else...,' he said as he prepared to leave and halted when old master Han raised a hand.

"Humor an old man's curiosity but from which house do you claim obligation?" he watched curiously as Yunbok seemed to withdraw.

"I'm afraid I do not know," Yunbok said after a moment. "I was adopted into another family. All that remained of my father is his name. I chose to leave home a few years ago to see what my journey would bring me."

"I see. It takes courage to breathe the wilds and face the desolation of menace. My son is fortunate," old master Han said gently, smiling as Yunbok looked ill at ease at the praise. "There is a long journey for him and mine has become shorter with more leisurely pursuits," he got to his feet and waved to the paintings. "When the air is cold, I seek the warmth of early days. Tell me, does this not breathe of spring?" he waited patiently as Yunbok got up reluctantly to step closer.

"Yes, it does, sir," he said, after glancing at the painting beside old master Han.

"What do you think of it?" old master Han looked at the painting, seemingly deep in thought.

"A time of... enjoyment , sir," Yunbok tried to keep it simple.

"Is that all?" a note of disappointment in the older man's voice. "Surely you can define what it is to you?"

Was the old man testing him? On what basis was he to be judged on? Yunbok hesitated but he sensed that old master Han wanted nothing more than the truth from him. It would be dishonest of him if he tried to vacillate.

"Fragrance of spring premeates every heart. Beauty and blossoms strove for harmony. Joy abound in the highest and the lowest. Though they shared the light of the sun, the commons lie in shadow."

There was no expression on the old man's face as he stared at the painting.

"That is most enlightening," he said, turning to smile at Yunbok. "I have taken up much of your time and it will be curfew soon. Please, take one of the horses from the stable."

Yunbok was only too glad to leave, he had been afraid the old man would ask too many questions about his background and he had no wish to mislead him. Old master Han stood at the porch and watched as Yunbok rode off. A well educated young man from his speech and demeanor. Steady and honest. He had ceased his questioning for he discerned that Yunbok had no desire to discuss his lineage further. His reluctance was not due to any dishonour but an avoidance for deceit. It would not do to press too hard. Ah, but his interpretation of the painting was interesting. He smiled as he spied Kyoung-mi withdrawing silently once Yunbok disappeared from sight.

Kyoung-mi dismissed Heon-sook once they reached her room. At her desk, she took out the painting and spread it. Carefully, she took out the seals, dipped them in red ink and pressed them on the painting.

"Hyewon... Shin Yunbok...," she read. Shin Yunbok? Was that brother Seo's real name? Why was he going around under another name? She frowned, the names were familiar. Where had she heard them before? She touched the painting gently. There was one way to find out. Carefully, she cleaned the seals and replaced them in the box. How was she to return them? Oh, a dilemma. She dared not think how brother Seo was going to react if she simply just handed them over to him. Perhaps if she returned to the paper mill the morrow on the pretense to see Young-joon, she could slip the box back into the bandaji. The thought of the duplicity of her actions gave her no rest however. That night, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep. When morning came, her eyes felt gritty and her body ached.

"Uncle, I would like to visit the market today," she said, as she paid her respects to old master Han that morning.

Old master Hans was astonished to see the dark shadows at her eyes. "Are you all right? You looked like you have not slept at all,"

"I am worried over cousin. That's why I want to visit the market today to buy some herbs for him," she looked down at the floor, afraid old master Han would see her deception.

"All right," old master Han gave his permission, pleased with her concern but puzzled by the tension that held her.

At the market place, Kyoung-mi looked carefully at the shops, hunting for one that specialised in paintings. She had concluded that it was better to ask at the shops than to ask her uncle who would query her too much about the painting. Heon-sook was puzzled to find her mistress walking past medicine shops. Wasn't she going to buy herbs? And here she was walking into a art gallery. It made no sense to her.

The proprietor greeted Kyoung-mi effusively. "Mistress, are you interested in buying a painting?"

"Sir, what can you tell me about this piece of work?" she took out Yunbok's painting which she had rolled into the thinnest of tubes from her sleeve and unfurled it.

"This...where did you get this?" the proprietor's eyes widened when he saw the stamps. "Please, let me look carefully."

She was startled by his reaction and waited, eager to hear what he would say. He turned the painting to the light and examined the seals and brushstrokes carefully and nearly frightened her when he turned to her suddenly.

"This is Hyewon's work! Mistress, where did you get this?" he asked excitedly, holding out the painting.

"Who... who is Hyewon?"

"Mistress, you do not know who is Hyewon? Ahhh... Hyewon, Shin Yun-bok is one of the best painters of Choson! Four years ago, there was a great competition between him and his master, Danwon Kim Hongdo at Hanseong. I heard the spectacle was grand! Many people went to see this great competition, many bets were made. Many people won alot of money because the result was a stalemate! But Hyewon disappeared from the art world since that competition and was never heard of again. No new paintings by him ever surfaced these past four years. Since then, his paintings have fetched extremely high prices. Mistress, where did you get this painting?"

Kyoung-mi reeled at what she heard. Of course, that was why the names sounded so familiar. Brother Seo was Shin Yunbok, of that, she was certain. As to why he was living incognito, why he wanted this painting back. She paled. The reason could be deadly. Too often she had heard her uncle spoke of the factional strifes and inrigues in the royal court. Four years ago, there had been quite an upheaval in court concerning the top Minister with rumours that his disgace and dismissal was somehow linked to the court artists. If brother Seo chose to hide his identity. Had she committed a fatal error? Put him in danger? What was she to do?

"Mistress?"

She jumped as Heon-sook touched her arm and realized the proprietor was looking at her with puzzlement when she did not aswer.

"Mistress, this painting, where did you get it? I would like to buy it from you," he said eagerly.

"Oh, I found this by accident," she hurriedly took the painting back from him with shaking hands. "I'm sorry, it's not for sale," she hurried from the shop.

"But, mistress!" he was dismayed. That was a true piece of work from Hyewon, he was sure of it. To see it disappear would be a crime. "Mistress...wait!" If he explained how important it was to the art world.

Ignoring the calls of the proprietor, she rushed down the street, heart hammering in panic. No, no, what was she to do now? More than ever, she understood with paintful clarity why he wanted the painting back. It was mistake he had tried to rectify. Her crimes were coming back to haunt her. All her fault. Heon-sook was bewildered as she ran after her mistress. What was the crisis?


	7. Chapter 7

**Daeseol 1781**

The first thing when Young-joon became aware was the pain. When he opened his eyes, he realised he was not in his room when he found himself looking up at a plain ceiling. When was it repapered? But no, this could not be his room. He sat up, hissing in pain when his body twinged. Neck, shoulders, arms and hands were aching terribly. Looking down, he could see blisters rising on the palms and fingers and remembered what he had done. He felt empty and dull, not knowing what to do next. A soft shuffle at the door drew his eyes.

"Brother Han, are you awake?" came Yunbok's voice.

"Yes, please come in."

The door slid opened and Yunbok stepped in, carrying a basin and towel. "It's time to get up, brother. You have almost slept the day away," he said smiling. "I've been looking in on you time to time but you were sleeping like the dead."

"What time is it?" Young-joon asked softly. Everything seemed so far away.

"The sun has passed the middle mark, brother Han. A meal is waiting outside. Here," Yunbok placed the basin and towel near him. "Wash up. Come, brother Han," he clapped Young-joon on the shoulder when he did not move. "Move like flowing waterfall instead of stagnating like still water."

Young-joon stared at the closed door for a long moment after he left before flicking the water in the basin with his fingers. Still water. Void of life and joy, forever silent. Clear and cool for now but time unceasing would see it vanish, forever. Did he want to be like that? He rubbed his eyes and then wished he hadn't for his hand hurt. Sighing, he dipped the towel into the basin and cleaned himself up. Once he was done, he picked it up and went out to the daecheong where he found the soban already laid out and waiting.

"Let me take that," said Yunbok, taking the basin from him before he could object and vanished into the kitchen. Only to return to see Young-joon standing where he had left him. "Eat, you'll feel better," he pushed his friend towards the soban. "You must tell me how it tastes since I cooked this meal."

"You prepared these?" Young-joon looked at the dishes: patbap, tojangguk, jangkimchi and mujjangji.

"I did. Eat," Yunbok urged. With hands that trembled slightly, Young-joon tasted the soup. The aroma of it sent his senses tingling and he began to feel the emptiness in his stomach; he had not eaten much last night except to down a bowl of soup before going to bed. Yunbok smiled when he began to dig in. "So how is it?" he asked when most of the food was gone.

"It's delicious. Did you really cook the meal?" Young-joon couldn't help asking. "Who taught you to cook?"

"My master, you're lucky you weren't here three years ago."

"Why?"

"You'll have the runs," laughed Yunbok. "I didn't do so well at first. Later, I had to ask the village ajumma for some tips because he only knew how to cook rice, plain soup and roast meat." He eyed Yong-joon carefully. "Brother Han, how does a trip with the workers out to the hills to collect wood sound to you?"

"I..," laying down his chopsticks, Young-joon looked at his friend uncertainly. "Aboji will be worried, I should go home."

"Your father feels that you need some distraction. What better distraction is there than the wilds?" Yunbok touched a small pile of clothing near him. "I borrowed some workclothes you can change into from master Suk-kwon. Let me see your wounds," he moved the soban aside and gestured to Young-joon to hold out his hands. Blisters could be clearly seen. "This will help," he slathered on some ointment from a small pot before wrapping light bandages around the hands. "There. I'll just take this away," getting to his feet, he picked up the soban. "The workers are going to leave soon."

Feeling somewhat amused and bemused at Yunbok's pushy manner, Young-joon watched his friend disappeared into the kitchen then fingered the workclothes. Perhaps Yunbok was right. Rather than lay around like a sick dog, going out into the hills for fresh air would do him some good. He picked up the workshirt and removed his own, shivering slightly in the cool air. It was thick and well made, warming him instantly when he put it on. Yunbok came back and he followed him to the porch where he found a pair of jipsin and snowshoes waiting for him.

"Here," Yunbok handed him a staff. "Use this to check for hidden perils under the snow and stay with the workers at all times since you're not familiar with the area." A group of workers walked past and he hailed them. One of them came over. "Chang-su will lead the way."

"You're not coming?" Young-joon was surprised.

"I've other duties. Chang-su will ensure your safety."

How ironic, thought Young-joon as Chang-su bowed. The man who would have killed him weeks ago was now his bodyguard. How the world turn!

Standing at the path, Yunbok watched as Young-joon crossed the creek with the workers, glad that his friend was picking himself up again. Although he did not ask Young-joon, he suspected that his friend had not been sleeping and eating well for several days for he looked slightly thinner. If he continued to apply himself to other interests, his recovery was assured but by no means would he forget his hurt that quickly. No, not unless someone else came to soothe that away. But would it be that easy? The first fall was always the hardest. He should know. But then, unlike any others who could get a second chance, he wouldn't. Not with anyone.

"Well rascal, it looks like he's getting back on his feet,' said Suk-kwon behind him.

"Do you have to go about creeping like a thief?" Yunbok eyed his master with some asperity.

"Aigooo, how is it my fault if you can't hear me over the noise of your thoughts?" returned Suk-kwon before he nudged Yunbok. "You have not settled the matter with that girl, have you?"

"I didn't have a chance to talk to her."

"But you saw her home last night."

"Really, master. With so many servants, how much opportunity would I have to talk to her? And her uncle was at home. What, was I to barge into her room?"

"You realise of course that a weed would bloom without help?"

Yunbok only sighed. He didn't need any reminders that a situation could develop beyond his control the longer he took to resolve it.

"All right then," Suk-kwon could see he was not ready to talk about it. "We need more wood for the stoves."

"Be right there."

Late that afternoon, Young-joon applied himself to learning paper manufacture when he realized he had failed to pay attention the day before. He was amazed by the amount of work that went into the making of paper. Eagerly, he watched Yunbok and the workers as they worked through the stages and briefly tried his hand at grinding the mulberry fibres, scalding and drying before a viscous liquid was poured on. When the fibers were swollen, they were boiled in lime water for a few hours and then put into sacks to be washed of the impurities. This cleansing took up to a week, explained Yunbok.

The workers then secured the sacks downstream of the mullebanga. Once the fibers were dried and bleached in the sun, it was hammered until a fine paste was achieved. The paste was placed in a vat of liquid extracted from yam and molds immersed until a layer of the pulp was deposited. Skilled hands were needed to ensure the layer was even before the mold was placed on warm shelves over the stoves to dry out the deposit. Once most of the moisture was removed, the deposit that had become the hanji was peeled off and laid out on the drying boards and lines in the sun.

Knowing he was unaccustomed to the manual work, Yunbok took care that he did not strain his hands any further even. He was afraid old master Han might not be too pleased should the son returned home with injured hands. That night, Young-joon could not help but examined his shaking hands.

"Do you need something for your hands?" Suk-kwon asked as he slowly finished his bowl of guk, noticing Young-joon's frown and preoccupation.

"Oh no, master Park, it's nothing," Young-joon dismissed the discomfort readily. "What is pain compared to what I have learned today."

"That is good! As it is said, 'Be not afraid of growing slowly, be afraid only of standing still'."

"Master, have you ever heard of 'Behind an able man there are always other able men'?" Yunbok said as he prepared to take away the soban. "When are you going to improve your cooking abilities? I can't always be cooking for you!"

"Rascal, do you need a tanning? I don't hear you complaining when you first came here."

"That was before I knew of your lacks!" called Yunbok from the kitchen.

"Aigoo, you're asking for it!" Suk-kwon marched to the kitchen as Young-joon looked on with amusement. There was a camaraderie between those two he never had with anyone else, even with his father.

In the kitchen, Suk-kwon handed over his soup bowl even as he whispered, "Would you be fine with him?"

"It's nothing new. He won't suspect anything," Yunbok said calmly, shaking his head at his master's anxiety as he thought of the days when he shared a room with his foster brother, Young-bok and the months with his master, Danwon, when they painted the royal portrait.

"Well, just scream if...," Suk-kwon spluttered when Yunbok water splashed over him. "You... really..."

Young-joon tried to hide his grin when Suk-kwon came back with a soaked jeogori. It looked like his friend got the upper hand over his master. Yunbok came in, grabbed the ledgers off the cabinet and seated himself at the desk.

"Brother Seo, you communicate very well with your master. It seemed that he is more of a close friend than a teacher," Young-joon said enviously.

"In that you are right, brother Han," Yunbok nodded. "He is both teacher and friend. He is also, in a way, a father as well."

"And I hope you remember that, rascal," Suk-kwon appeared from the back room, wearing a dry clean jeogori. "Are you trying to kill me? Splashing water on me on this cold night!"

"Aigoo, master, I did not know you fear a little water," said Yunbok in mock surprise. "That tale you told me of a winter rescue out on the icy lake must be a fabrication then."

"How can it be false when I have witnesses?" returned Suk-kwon indignantly.

"Master, you said that it happened thirty years ago, where and whom can I go to verify the truth of it?"

"Fancy not taking my word for it. When have I ever lied to you?"

"Lie, no. Exaggerate, yes!"

"Er hem...," Young-joon coughed when it looked like they were both getting ready for a brawl. They looked at him, having forgotten he was there. "I've been meaning to ask you, brother Seo. How is it that you chose to work at the paper mill?"

"Oh, ask him," Yunbok pointed to Suk-kwon, who swatted his hand.

"Free labour," Suk-kwon answered smugly.

"Slave labour," Yunbok shot back.

Young-joon sighed, it looked like it was going to be a long night if they were going to bicker at every sentence. It was some time later that he learned Yunbok himself was rescued from bandits by Suk-kwon and had elected to stay on at the paper mill. As he lay in his bedding in Yunbok's house late that night, he wished he had such a close easy relationship with his father or a brother to talk to. It had been rather lonely for him even when Kyoung-mi arrived for she was segregated. There was no one he could share sentimentas with and when he grew of age, there was even less chance of that. Most of his friends were only concerned with themselves. He glanced at the sleeping hump on his right. Well, he had a brother now, did he not?

How strange it was that it took a relative stranger to propel him to reach a new level of concord with his father. For the past weeks, he found he could discuss and voiced his opinions more easily for he knew his father would actually listen. Before, he had always thought he was being silently criticized for every word he dared to say. Now he knew it was not so. He had never imagine it could be so. A sigh of contentment passed his lips. Tomorrow he would be out again to gather mulberry branches with the workers. The paper mill was a vastly different world from the one he lived in and he was enjoying every moment of it. Closing his eyes, he fell asleep.

Next morning, he set off early with the first group of workers after breakfast, eager to learn more. The day wore on into the afternoon. Presently, two figures appeared on the trail leading to the paper mill. The workers looked up with curiosity when they walked into the workyard. One was a young girl, the other was an older woman in her twenties.. The sight of her stilled several hands. Jeong-hyang looked around, wondering to whom she could speak to. The oldest of them? There was no sign of Yunbok among the faces she searched. Was he not here?

Walking up to a middle-age man who had his back to her, she said, "Excuse me, is there a Mr Seo working here? "

Astonished murmurs broke out among the workers, ears primed the moment she appeared. Yunbok? Did they hear right? She was looking for Yunbok? How did he manage to snare such a beauty? After what seemed like a dearth of women in their young colleague's private sphere, suddenly two of them appeared. They peered at the trail, perhaps a third was on her way? Or a fourth? Perhaps Yunbok had a hidden harem they never knew of, Bong-chol whispered to those around him and chuckles broke out at the absurdity of the suggestion.

Suk-kwon looked in amazement at her and could not help looking her up and down, trying to fathom where she had appeared from. She did not flinch from his scrutiny.

"He's out at the woodyard. I'll get him...," he turned to the nearest worker, intending to get him to fetch Yunbok but she forestalled him.

"No, please tell me where to go."

"Just go round that corner and turn right," he pointed before hacking a cough, glaring at the men who had stopped working. Taking the hint, they dropped their heads but took sneaky peeps now and then.

"Would it be too much trouble if my maid waits for me here?" she asked for she did not want Ae-young to witness her meeting with Yunbok.

"Ah... she can sit over there," Suk-kwon nodded over to a wooden box by a stove.

"Stay here, Ae-young," she instructed.

"..mistress...," the girl said nervously, glancing around, knowing the men were looking at her even though they seemed not to.

"It's all right, I'll be back soon."

Following the man's direction, she went around the corner and turned right into a small path. The thud of an axe against wood became louder as she came to a clearing. With trepidation, she went nearer and froze when she finally reached the source of the noise. And he was there, back to her as he split the stump of wood before him into pieces. She did not know how long she stood there, drinking in the fact that he was really there. Sweat had already darkened his cloth headband and she longed to wipe away the perspiration she could see glistening on his face.

It was some time before she finally registered that he was really cutting the wood. With next to little effort. This was a far cry from the Yunbok she knew in Hanseong. How much had he changed? She was almost afraid to find out. As he turned to toss pieces of wood into a large bucket, the flutter of cloth at the peripheral edge of his vision caught his attention. Shock held him immobile when he turned his head. He had never thought she would come looking for him. She ought not to be there. They stared at each other.

"What are you doing here?" he said finally.

"Why didn't you come to see me?" she said as she walked slowly forward.

What purpose would it serve? He held back the answer and looked away. "I was busy."

That was a lie and she knew it. "Painter.."

If she had taken the trouble to find out where he was, she was definitely not going away without some answers, he knew. Coming to a decision, he said, "Why don't we go down to the creek? It's easier to talk there." The sound of the water would muffle their voices. "It's this way," he dropped the axe and started in the direction of the path without waiting to see if she would follow.

Silently, she trod after him, somewhat upset with his cool reception. In her distraction, her feet slipped on the icy path and would have fallen if he had not reacted quickly to grab her hand. Involuntarily, she tightened her hold and wondered if he would pull away. But he said nothing and continued on downwards. Unseen behind them, Suk-kwon watched with great interest. Having heard their first words to each other, he knew what that implied. The question remained now was whether they had met in Uiryeong or long before that. It would have to be the latter, he decided, when they reached the creek without letting go of their hold. Good, a mystery to solve. Smiling, he withdrew and made sure none of the men in the workyard approached the creek.

Dusting the snow off a boulder, Yunbok pulled Jeong-hyang over, indicating she should sit. With some relief, he pulled his hand away and sat down on a smaller stone nearby. "Why are you back at a gibang?" he began, poking the toe of his shoe into the snow to avoid her gaze. "Aren't you a free woman?"

"A free woman with limited resources, no husband and no family," she said. "I was raised as a gisaeng and they are all the family I know. The gibang in Uiryeong is run by a close friend, that is why I chose to come here. I'm not permitted to entertain as a gisaeng but I can provide amusement to a small band of friends. With their generosity and the work I get as a seamstress, I live reasonably well," she was tempted to throw something at him, if only to make him look her way. "What about you? What happened at Hanseong? I thought you would be working with master Danwon. Why are you here, working at the paper mill? Aren't you painting any more?"

"Things just didn't turn out as expected," he scooped up some snow, molding it into a ball. "The King found out who I was," he heard her gasp of horror. "But he was merciful and let me go under the condition that I must remain hidden. None of my paintings must ever face the light of day ever again. Master Danwon would have come with me but knowing how the King favors him, I chose to leave him behind."

"But...how could the King..."

"It was Kim Jo-nyeon. Somehow or other, he suspected I wasn't what I was..."

"It's all because of that painting, "Moonlight Rendezvous"," Jeong-hyang said angrily. "You had me in such a panic that day. But you provoked him so, do you know he came to me and hinted that he knew what you are? No, he stated matter of factly and asked how was it I could love a person such as you."

Yunbok's heart leaped a little when he heard that and then reminded himself she was speaking of the past. "It wasn't the painting. Master Danwon said he threatened to disrobe me if he should refuse the competition. Somehow, he knew or guessed but in the end, he knew it for a fact."

"What?" Jeong-hyang was not sure she understood.

"He was involved in the conspiracy to discredit the monarchy and was found out. I rashly confronted him when he was fleeing from the soldiers sent to arrest him because I wanted to hammer one more nail to his torments. I wanted him to know by whose hands he lost all his wealth, his belongings and the destruction of his reputation," grim satisfaction filled him as he recalled the look of towering rage on Kim Jo-nyeon's face. If only he had an attack of apoplexy and died then. That would have prevented the problems that cropped up later. "That bodyguard of his got him away," he continued, "and I think he revealed the truth to his co-conspirators who tried to threaten the King with it. Master Danwon told me it was all too likely the Queen Dowager was involved. Even so, I was ordered into exile and told I was never to use my pen name again, that I must ensure that I cannot be found by the factions against him."

"That's why you're now working at the paper mill?" she ached for his loss.

"I do still paint. It's just I cannot allow anyone to see them."

"Then isn't it too difficult for you? I mean..," she stopped short as she recalled what he had been doing.

"That's what I thought too at first," he smiled, recalling what Suk-Kwon had told him. "You and master Danwon are not the only ones who know the truth about me. There's another. My master. Master ."

"Master Park?"

"You must have met him just now, he was cleaning the roots up at the mill."

"Ahh, yes I did."

"I... wandered around for a year after I left Hanseong," he decided not to tell her too much of that first year. "I was unlucky enough to be set upon by bandits and was rescued by master Park."

Actually, he was almost left for dead, having suffered a broken leg and a blow to the head. The bandits had not been gentle but his master came before they could finish him off. But there was no point in frightening her with those.

"He nursed my injuries and found out what I was. I had to tell him a little of my background. When I recovered, he said I had to learn how to defend myself. I was unwilling initially..," he smiled as he remembered how he met Suk-kwon and his astonished reaction...


	8. Chapter 8

**Seo Yun's (Shin Yunbok) Metamorphose**

**Daeseol 1777**

The night was chilling with the dark closing around like a tomb. Muttering under his breath, Suk-kwon peered through the gloom. How was he to find the source of the disturbance in the hills? He might as well blindfold himself for all the good it did, all his rushing about. Turning this way and that, he strained his eyes to look for the slightest clue and finally found what he sought. A glint of orange light glimmered among the trees. And another. He started for the lights quickly. How many men would there be? Two? Four? Ten? More than ten?

Heart thumping, he finally saw the lights clearly. He burst through the trees to see two men standing over something huddled on the ground. With a shout, he rushed them, startling the one who was just raising his club to smash down on his victim. They were no match for him and he sent them scurrying for their lives. Once he was satisfied they were gone, he bent over the fallen figure on the ground. A young man who did not respond to his call at first.

"Can you speak?" gently, he tapped the young man's face. "Can you hear me?"

"I...," the young man gasped before his eyes rolled up and he fainted. From fright or from injuries?

Grabbing one of the fallen torches on the ground, he checked him over. The left foot was bent at an unnatural angle at the ankle. Pulling off the shoe and sock, he rolled up the leg of the trouser for a closer examination. Dislocation. Just as well the young fellow was unconscious. He set the dislocated joint back to its natural position without too much fuss and put back the sock and shoe. Picking up the pack and paper tube lying by the young man, he secured them on himself before he heaved the unconscious fellow on his back. How light he was! Did he live on air?

It was quite a hike back to his house by the paper mill but fortunately, his burden was no dead weight. After lowering the young man carefully to the floor of the daecheong, he went out and brought in two pieces of wood and used them as splints for the leg. Afer removing the askewed gat from the young man's head, Suk-kwon was surprised to see that he had fine features. His build was rather frail too.

There were no other signs of injury although there was a bump on the side of his head. He fingered the sleeve of the durumagi but detected no padding, it was rather threadbare. No winter clothing, no winter tosi or cap. Pale and thin. Much too thin. Frowning, he picked up the wrist and stared at the young man.

Surely he was mistaken. That pulse. Turning the hand over, he examined it closely. No callus. The skin was smooth. Not a day's work in evidence. Nothing to indicate he had ever lifted a hoe or even a sword. A scholar? His eyes flicked to the paper tube he had deposited on the floor. It all added up and yet it did not, there was that tell tale in the pulse. Frail, thin, delicate features. He double checked again. With some hesitation, he felt along the length of the throat; smooth. Clapping a hand to his head, he blew out a sigh of disbelief. What was she doing, going around dressed as a man? That was going to be a problem, he mused thoughtfully. But it could wait. First, he had to make sure she made a full recovery. Pulling out the spare quilt, he covered her and went to the kitchen to make sure the stove was well stoked.

When she woke up, it was to find herself in a strange house. Panicked, she sat up, clutching at herself and looked down startled when she felt two hard items tied to her left foot. Pulling the quilt aside, she saw the splints. Someone had put them there. Who? She tried to remember as she looked around the empty daecheong. There were sounds coming from outside the house. Thumps on the porch outside. Someone was coming. Frantically, she tried to get up. The front door opened. The light at the door blinded her for a moment and she could not see who it was. When her vision cleared, she found a sturdy middle age man smiling at her. She eyed him defensively.

"You have a dislocated foot so try not to move around too much," he said before vanishing somewhere behind her to return with a basin and towel. "I'm Park Suk-kwon. You are?"

"Seo Yong, sir. You rescued me last night didn't you?" she said, certain that it was this man who had spoken to her last night before she fainted.

"That I did," he pushed the basin and towel nearer. "You are staying here until you have made a full recovery and...," he paused, "you have to try to look after yourself. There are some things I cannot do for you."

She blinked as he stared at her meaningfully. It then dawned on her what he meant.

"You...know? How?" she looked down at herself, then at him with horror.

He shook his head at her unvoiced question, not surprised at her assumption. "I'm not a skilled physician but I can tell the difference between pulses. There are other telltale signs, your frail build, your hands." He took her arm and turned her hand over. "No calluses, nothing. Too pale and you're missing something here," he pointed to his throat, his adam's apple clearly seen. He grinned when she felt her own throat self consciously. "And you are pretty to be a boy, come to think ot it. But I would form that impression because I know what you are. The others out there who do not know your real identity might even consider calling you pretty but most would take you as you are. Handsome, yes?" he laughed.

"I...why are you telling me all this?" she wondered what she was going to do since she was completely at his mercy. Would he betray her?

"Because I am not going to go around shouting out what you are. That's your own business," he soothed her obvious anxiety. "Right now, you rest. Heal that leg. Put other thoughts from your mind. All right?" Suspicion and disbelief in her gaze. He would feel the same way in her place. "You must be hungry, I'll get you some food."

She had to take him at his word though she could have left. Her foot was dislocated, not broken. There was something about him that made her feel he was completely honest in his intentions. If she was wrong. Worst come to the worst, she could try killing herself. But she wasn't wrong. In the days that followed, he showed her how she should gently exercise the foot to strengthen it. When the splints were taken off, she could hobble around slowly though he forbade her to go outside for fear of careless injury. It was then that she learned she was at the paper mill he owned. The noises she heard every day were workers processing the mulberry.

Seeing her boredom and since her hands were mobile, he had her helped out by recording the daily tally of the paper that were made. It was work that she appreciated and she began to understand more of the business when he moved her to the ledgers. He went even further in his care. Seeing that her clothes were threadbare, he had new ones made for her. If she could not take care of herself, he would have to do it, he said, waving her shoes before her eyes. Pointing to the holes in the soles. It was rather embarrassing but it felt heartwarming to have someone concerned for her welfare. She warmed up to him enough to share a little of her own history, mainly to explain why she was going around disguised as a man. He said little and only looked thoughtful. Then finally one day, she was allowed to go out.

What a relief that was! To finally see the light of day and explore the surroundings. The paper mill, she saw, was at the top of a flattened hilltop that sloped down to a creek which provided the fresh, clean water for paper processing. Across the creek were the hills from where the workers gathered mulberry branches. Suk-kwon's house was right next to the workyard, she discovered as she strolled around. There was a storage shed, a vegetable patch, a barn, an outhouse and ash shed. There was also a house under construction, almost completed, next to the vegetable patch. Workers were putting the finishing touches on the roof. She wondered whose house it was.

Out at the the workyard, there was much activity. Large pots were boiling on fires, the air was pungent with lye, workers were busy grinding roots, washing and beating fibre. They looked at her curiously but did not trouble her as she stood by quietly to observe them at their tasks. Suk-kwon explained the process to her that night and expounded it further in the days that followed. A few weeks after her complete recovery, just when she was thinking of moving on, he dropped the most shocking proposal she had never considered at all on her.

"Are you suggesting I take up martial arts?" she stared at Suk-kwon in disbelief. "But..," she shook her head, "I'm thinking of leaving..."

"Leave?" he glared fiercely at her. She blinked in consternation at his anger. "Of all the fools...have you thought about how lucky you were that night? That I happened to be there to rescue you from those robbers. Can you imagine what would have happened if I were not there? You would be lying in some misbegotten hole somewhere right now and no one would even know you ever existed. It's time you learned how to defend yourself or fortune may not smile on you next time."

"But...I can't stay..."

"Why? Do you have somewhere to go? Someone to meet? Some business to attend to?"

"No but..." How was she to explain that she could not afford to stay too long at one place? "I'm...," she stopped short. What? She was a woman? He seemed to read her mind.

"If you are going to say that you can't because you are a woman then you should be at home, wearing a jeogori and chima, learning how to be a wife and so on. But no, you are not doing any of those, you are presenting yourself as a man. I know..," he stopped her as she opened her mouth. "What you have become was not by your own choice of will, it was your foster father's meddling. But before you left Hanseong, you had to choose. You have already chosen," he pointed at her to emphasize his point. "You chose to continue in the guise of a man because your identity is already established as such. Because of the freedom it represented. You are not blind, you would have seen for yourself the quality of life women have."

She looked away for he was right. It was all very well to desire to be what she really was. Those escapades she had, dressing up as a gisaeng were mainly an end to achieve her purpose. Secret but dangerous forays that she found riveting, exciting and sensual. An epiphany she reveled in. But to live in it forever? It was a world fraught with chains that would strangle her, given her passion for the arts. The place of women was not an easy one, she had seen that for herself in her travels. A lone woman who knew nothing of being one, no family, no shelter, no money, no friends. Fair game to any man. How long would she last? She doubted she would be able to earn much as a woman than as a man. Even if she did settle down, still, there would be gossips. The discrimination and danger would still be there. No, he was right. She had already made her choice when she left Hanseong.

"Eleven years of ingrained habits are hard to undo," continued Suk-kwon. "I do not argue with that. However if you were sincere, you would have fought for it. You didn't because you knew your passions would negate success. So you chose freedom but in doing so, you chose the greater danger. There is a price to be paid for every choice. You cannot continue as you are now, not knowing how to defend yourself. A woman may be physically frailer than a man but there are ways to counter the weaknesses. How do you think our forebears managed to survive?"

In that, he was utterly right. She would be utterly defenseless if she intend to continue her nomad wanderings. There were already several close calls in the past year. To survive, she would have to do what he suggested.

"How do I begin then?" she asked. He smiled, reading her decision in her set shoulders. Sad that it had to be so but even as fate was cruel, sometimes it could be merciful.

"From tomorrow, you are my new apprentice at the paper mill. There is a vacant house beside mine that you can stay at." He tossed her a few sets of homespun work clothing as she stared at him. Vacant house? There was only one other house she had seen.

"Wait, that new house?" He was giving her a new house to stay? "But for whom was it originally intended? How can I..," she protested.

"I got tired of lazy apprentices who just can not be bothered to drag their lazy selves up here so I have a house built to accommodate them," he said flippantly as if spending money on a new house was of no matter to him.

That sounded too superfluous to her. He could have the apprentices stay with him, why go through all that trouble to build a new one to house them? The cost of building a house was not cheap. There was something he was not telling her.

"Look, don't worry about it," he said, seeing her doubts. "The first step to defending...," he paused. She waited with bated breath, half wondering what it was he was going to set her. "Chopping wood. First thing tomorrow morning."

She stared after him dumbfounded as he walked out the door. Chopping wood?! She had not done any physical labour in her life. Staring at her hands once more, she wondered if she would live through her ordeal.

Survive it she did. It was harrowing at first. At the end of the first day, her aching body hurt so much she felt as if she was on the verge of death. Suk-kwon had to bully her into eating for she had no appetite, threatening to feed her and refused to settle for anything less than empty dishes. It was the same the second day and every other day. Every joint was stiff, every muscle screamed. Day after day, she chopped wood, carried water from the creek, moved stacks of paper. Eventually, the tasks became easier. Her hands roughened, her stamina and strength increased. Or so she thought until the day he brought her along on wood gathering expeditions.

Going up and down hilly terrains and winding paths, carrying loads of wood on her back brought back all the aches and pain. Day after day she struggled and she would have labeled Suk-kwon a slave master if he had not given her the time to indulge in her love for painting when the desire to draw took hold. The other workers took her for granted, never seeing past her facade. After all, why should they? But they were sympathetic when they saw her struggles and helped in every way they could.

Not satisfied with the physical changes, Suk-kwon encouraged her to change the pitch of her voice. Although she had gotten used to adopting a lower tone, it was tenuous in emotional articulation. She should stop sounding like some high strung lad, he pointed out. A calm, lower, more forceful projection would help establish a more dignified credibility. She had thought him insane for trying to instil such a change but could find no valid argument against it. Although peeved, she was resigned to transforming herself to a more credible veneer and took up his suggestion in practising various projection of her voice out in the hills. Over and over until she was no longer even certain she sounded or acted like herself. At one point, she could not even speak for her throat had gone hoarse. But in the end, he pronounced his satisfaction.

Then came the day Suk-kwon took her to a flat plain on a hill, tossed her a staff and began her lessons in defense. Although the staff required more exertion, it was the most convenient and easiest tool to carry around since it served several purposes, he explained. The exercises were simple at first, he had her strike continuously in various directions against the bole of a tree and a stuffed sack. Undercut, uppercut, diagonally left and right, sweep and so on over and over again. Exhorting her to exert more strength if she could. Then he taught her a set of complicated and simple twirls to keep away more than one opponent before moving her to the more complex moves as as her entire body came into play. She would not have the strength for a physical standoff one to one and never would. But she could make up for that lack by taking an opponent down using speed and guile. And he showed her all the various ways and tricks she could employ to knock down an enemy, even if she was unarmed.

Sometimes, an opponent may shout, sometimes they would not make any sound at all, he said. It was not important. What was more important was to watch their hands, body and feet. He frightened her at first when he demonstrated, he looked and sounded so fierce some and barbaric in that initial bout that she almost dropped her staff and took flight. It took almost a year to the day she started on the staff before she was able to land a touch on Suk-kwon. He had been very pleased when she did so.

He also showed her the use of a dagger, a more hidden and convenient weapon. He was extremely unsparing, having her practised repeatedly until he was satisfied she was proficient to his standard. Then there was the sword and jung bong, both of which she gained enough proficiency to his satisfaction.

If she thought Suk-kwon was rather unusual to want her to be accomplished in martial arts, she kept her thoughts to herself. Ever since she had stayed at the paper mill, she had come to see that he was a trustworthy, altruistic, discerning man. Whatever his motives were, she could see he sought to give her the means to protect herself, infused confidence and be perceptive of everything around her. She had come to regard him as a father and a friend. So instead of moving on, she chose to stay. What better way to hide herself than as a labourer at a paper mill? No one would ever dreamed of it.

* * *

**Daeseol 1781**

"And you live through all that?" Jeong-hyang could hardly believe her ears.

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't," he dropped the melting snowball and got to his feet. "That is all there is to it. Are you satisfied?" he asked softly as he walked past her to stand at the edge of the creek.

"No. You have not answered my question."

"What question is that?"

"Why didn't you come to see me? And please do not say you were busy."

For a long moment, he said nothing and she wondered what he was thinking. "As I see it, our fate will continue to move along their respective paths."

Chilled, she stared at him. "Painter, no..," she got to her feet.

"Our paths ended at the river."

"Yes, they did. The path of all the wrong choices, all the mistakes that were made, ended right there. That river was the new beginning. Painter," she stepped around to face him but he fixed his gaze elsewhere. "Your last wish is etched forever in my heart. Will you deny me now?"

With grim effort, he shook his head. "Reconsider. I am neither earth nor sun, I am not the right person..," he broke off when she threw her arms around him and stood frozen in shock by her reaction.

"No, you are the wind," she whispered. "You are my _Painter_."

The warmth of her threw him into a dizzy loop and he screwed his eyes shut. Wanting to tell her, to deny her but he couldn't resist holding her. Not with memories of the past flooding back in.

Across the creek, a group of men trudged down the path from the hill. As they headed towards the stone path to cross over, the man in the lead rubbed his eyes. Was he seeing things? "Elder brother," said Chang-sun to hsi brother behind him. "Who does that look like to you?" he pointed.

"Eh?" Chang-su's eyes widened. "Isn't that brother Seo? And isn't that a..." he spluttered in disbelief.

"Aigooo, that's a woman with him and they're...," Chang-sun said in awe.

"What?" Young-joon wondered what they were talking and peered in the direction they were looking to. He too, stared slack jawed at the scene as the news spread among the rest of the men in the group.

"Quick, quick, get across. Who is she?" they exhorted Chang-sun.

"Aigoo, don't push!"

Like a contorting crowd of strange bobbing branches, the group hurried over and then stood uncertainly at a distance, reluctant to disrupt what was a private moment. But there was the one short path up to the workyard, what were they to do? As they huddled together to discuss softly on the best way to proceed, Young-joon stepped away. Curious to know who the woman, he moved quietly towards the couple. The woman's clothes gave him no clue except that they were well made but not of silk. As she was partly turned away, he saw little of her face. Who was she? Then she moved away and he stared incredulously at Jeong-hyang who saw him at the same time. Her gasp of shock alerted Yunbok who turned.

"What...," Young-joon stared at them. "What is this?"

Lost for words, Yunbok could only stare at him. "Have you been going behind my back?" Young-joon mistook his silence for guilt. "Have you been cheating on me?" The group huddled nearby stopped their discussion and wondered what was going on.

"No," Yunbok said, finding his voice again. Stepping away from Jeong-hyang, he continued softly, hoping he could reach his friend for he could see the pain and anger in his eyes. "No, it's not what you think..."

"You know of my feelings for her, you would stab your brother in the back?"

"It's not what you think it is, listen to me..."

"Not what I think it is? With my eyes I see the two of you...you would tell me then I was delusional? That they," Young-joon pointed to the men watching the argument with wide eyes, "were delusional as well?"

"Master Han, matters are not what they seem," said Jeong-hyang. "If you would calm down and listen."

"Listen? Yes, I will if you tell me you have no feelings for him," Young-joon stared at her and gulped down an urge to scream when she looked away. "I was willing to give everything up for you, did you know that?"

"Yes, I do," she returned his gaze steadfastly. "Your offer was sincere but I cannot return it with less which is why I refused you..."

"You've only met him a few weeks ago and you're telling me he is the one you...," Young-joon found he could not say it. "No! You're lying! He's lying!" he shouted furiously. "I saw you first. I waited more than a year for you and this is how I'm repaid," he took a step towards her.

"Brother Han, be reasonable," Yunbok said quietly, drawing his attention. "You do not know the whole story."

"What? Is it stories you're going to tell me now?" Young-joon's knuckles whitened on his staff. "How do I know they're not lies. How do I know whatever you have said before are not lies as well?"

"If you think it that way, then there is nothing more to be said, is there?" Yunbok said as he shifted, there was a dark look in Young-joon's eye he didn't like. Almost maniacal. He moved away to the path and he knew he was right when Young-joon followed.

"No, nothing more need to be said!" shouted Young-joon. Raising his staff, he swung at Yunbok who dodged out of the way. The watching men were shocked. Chang-su dropped his load of mulberry branches and raced up the path to the workyard.

"Young master Han, stop!" Jeong-hyang was beside herself with fear. Surely he would kill Yunbok!

"Stop! Stop!" shouted the men. "There's surely a better way than fighting."

"Are you mad? Calm down!"

Young-joon hardly heard the cries. Passion had overtaken good sense, all he wanted now was to smash down the object of his pain. The one who denied him a chance. He swung again but Yunbok back-pedaled out of range. Furious that he missed, he followed up with a couple more wild swings that did nothing. Up on the path, Chang-su appeared with Suk-kwon, Ae-young and the rest of the workers from the workyard. Half expecting Suk-kwon to stop the fight, Chang-su was puzzled when he did nothing. Instead, the older man went slowly down the path with a staff he recognised as belonging to brother Seo.

Dodging another swing, Yunbok backed up to the path. Jeong-hyang bit her lips in her terror as the staff descended again but he dodged to the side at the last moment, knowing the rebound against the side of the hill would hurt Young-joon's blistered hands badly. Pain streaked up Young-joon's arms as the staff struck the wall, he gasped but he was not done yet. At that moment, Suk-kwon whistled sharply and threw the staff to Yunbok who caught it deftly. He could have ended it there and then, Young-joon's back was exposed but he wanted him to vent his anger. Snarling, Young-joon struck out again, changing his stance to that of a sword wielder. Yunbok met him strike for strike, circling, forcing him to expend his strength.

The workers watched the duel, agog. They saw that time and again, Yunbok could disable Young-joon but he was choosing not to. Finally, Young-joon could do nothing but pant, sweat dripping off him. His strength was mostly gone but not the anger in his heart.

"I hate you!" he threw the staff on the ground and ran across the creek, up the trail to the hills. Abandoning his staff, Yunbok ran after him. Afternoon was drawing into dusk, he could not afford to let his friend wandered around the hills in the dark. He could easily hurt himself.

"Chang-su, Chang-sun! Go after them and bring them back safely," shouted Suk-kwon. The two brothers hastily followed.

Hardly able to believe what had just happened, Jeong-hyang tried to still her trembling. She had thought to see Yunbok lying bloody and broken but instead saw him defeating his opponent easily. She could not but believe what he had told her. Ae-young rushed up to her and she was grateful for her support. The frantic beat of her heart slowed. She looked worriedly at the darkening sky and the hill. Although she was certain Yunbok could take care of himself, there was no telling what Young-joon would do to himself. She was sorry for the grievous hurt she caused the young man.

"Will you mind telling me what was that all about?" she startled as a gravelly voice spoke. She stared at Suk-kwon, uncertain as to where to start. "Look, you can wait at my house for those two. I can wait for the story. It's getting really cold out here," he said before returning up the path. If he was not going to stand around waiting, then he must be very confident Yunbok would come to no harm. Or Young-joon for that matter. Perhaps he was just being pramatic. She cast another look at the hills and followed Suk-kwon.

Up in the hills, Yunbok was not sure he could arrest Young-joon's headlong flight but he had an advantage as he was not as exhausted. The best he could do was to keep Young-joon within sight. Perhaps if he could get slow him down by provoking him into another confrontation? "Young-joon, don't be a fool. You can get lost in these hills!" he shouted.

"Leave me alone! Let me die, that'll be better wouldn't it?" Young-joon wished he could shut his ears. He did not want to hear what Yunbok had to say. His heart bled at the double betrayal. He stumbled and fell to the ground when Yunbok managed to catch and pull the trailing end of his jacket. He kicked out as Yunbok made to pull him up.

"I said leave me alone!" he backed up against a pile of rocks.

"I'll do that if only you would listen."

"No! I don't want to hear! No more lies! I won't listen to any of your lies anymore!" Young-joon clapped his hands to his ears, shaking his head vehemently.

"I did not lie to you! There was no plan to humiliate you!"

"What, are you saying what I saw back there was hallucination?! There's nothing wrong with my eyes!" shouted Young-joon.

What was that shadow behind Young-joon? At the apex of the rocks? Yunbok frowned. His eyes widened in alarm as it wavered in a familiar and deadly manner.

"Young-joon, don't move," he said. "There's a snake behind you."

"Shut up!" Young-joon shook his head, the movement further disturbing the viper, roused from its hibernation from the violent jarring when he backed up against the pile of rocks. It was sluggish but its mouth was ready to strike.

"Stop moving!" yelled Yunbok, wishing he could knock Young-joon over the head. How stubborn a fool was he? How childish could he get?

"Shut up!" Young-joon screamed back. "Stop pretending you know everything! You know nothing!"

Yunbok knew there was no time left when the viper's head reared and darted forward. Angered by what he thought was an attempt to frighten him, Young-joon lashed out with his foot. Yunbok cried out as the foot caught him in the ribs but his momentum was just enough to carry him forward to grab the snake. Unfortunately, he grabbed it too low behind the head and it landed a bite on him. He crashed down behind the rocks just as Chang-su and Chang-sun ran up.

"Brother Seo!" Chang-sun moved towards Yunbok but was held back by Chang-su who pointed to the slithery shadow curled around Yunbok's right arm.

"Watch out, there's a viper on him! Kill it quick!"

Young-joon's anger cooled rapidly when he heard their cries. There was really a snake? He looked on in confusion as Chang-sun searched for a tree branch. Failing to find that, he moved cautiously forward, ready to grab the head of the snake as he distracted it with the other. Ah, a chance! Like a lightning dart, his hand shot out and came up with the slowly twisting body of the sluggish snake. He crushed its head with a rock as his brother looked for the bite on Yunbok's arm. The right sleeve of his workjacket looked torn. Pushing it further up the arm, Chang-su found discolouration spots on the winter tosi and pulled it down to see the wound.

"It's no good, he's bitten," Chang-su attempted to suck out the poison.

"Be careful, hyeong, don't swallow any of it," Chang-sun warned.

"We have to get him to master Suk-kwon quickly," Chang-sun steadied an unconscious Yunbok as Chang-su heaved him onto his back and started off at a steady run. He turned to a silent Young-joon.

"What happened?"

"... he warned me there was snake behind me and I didn't believe him..." Young-joon muttered numbly.

"Enough. We better go back. Come." Chang-sun grabbed him by the shoulder and led him back down the trail.

* * *

Korean Words

_Jangkimchi - kimchi with soy sauce_  
_Patbap - rice cooked with red beans_  
_Tojangguk - soup with soy bean paste or red chilli pepper paste_


	9. Chapter 9

**Daeseol 1781**

It was difficult to sit calmly at the daecheong, but Jeong-hyang tried her best by silently reciting a poem. Beside her, Ae-young wondered what was going on and eyed a silent Suk-kwon curiously. It had been a confusing afternoon. That fight between master Han and his friend didn't make any sense. What were they fighting over? Her mistress? Or something else? She didn't even know why her mistress wanted to come to the paper mill to talk to someone she had met only once. Unless she was mistaken. Was it possible they had met somewhere before?

The faint sound of voices outside caught her attention. They grew louder and louder as they came nearer. Getting to his feet, Suk-kwon headed for the door and was nearly knocked over when it opened suddenly and someone barreled in. Beyond the door, a crowd of men looked in anxiously as Chang-su lowered the unconscious Yunbok to the floor even as he panted out, "Master, he's been bitten by a viper!" Jeong-hyang stared at him, horrified.

"How?" Suk-kwon demanded as he bent to Yunbok. "Never mind, what did you do? Where is the bite? How large was the snake?"

"I tried to suck out the poison, I don't know if I removed any of it. The snake was less than my arm's length," Chang-su measured out his arm to show Suk-kwon, looking a little sick. "It bit him on his right forearm."

"Go and wash out your mouth with tea now before you end up poisoning yourself. Get someone out there to bring in warm water immediately," seeing the crowd at the door, Suk-kwon barked, "Everyone out! Too many people here." Turning back to Yunbok, he checked his pulse and examined his eyes. "You stay," he said to a ashen faced Jeong-hyang. "I'm going to need your help. You," he looked at the maid. "Out!" She jumped and hastily did as he ordered. "Close the door properly," he looked at Jeong-hyang. She hurried to make sure the door was locked.

Grabbing his spare bedding and rolled up mats, Suk-kwon shoved them under Yunbok, elevating his upper body before removing the winter tosi to examine the wound on his forearm. It was swelling slightly.

"There's no severe swelling of the wound, that's a good sign for now" he said as Jeong-hyang returned to kneel at Yunbok's side. "That snake was likely immature and has less venom. Or maybe Chang-su arrived soon after and managed to remove some of the poison," he held up the winter tosi and pointed to the discolouration marking where the bite had gone through. "The thickness of the fur also absorbed some of the poison. I need to know what other injuries he has," he looked at Jeong-hyang. "I'm guessing you know everything about him." She nodded, surprised at his perceptiveness.

"Fine, I'm going to get whatever medicine I have, you check him out carefully for any further injuries. There might be a second bite but I'm thinking not. It pays to be thorough however. Keep him still, try not to move him around too much. And don't raise that injured arm." He got up and walked into the backroom, closed the door firmly behind him and began to look through his store of medicines in his medicine chest.

Outside, the workers sat around the courtyard, murmuring quietly among themselves, astounded by what they had seen and heard. It was impossible that their colleague would betray a friend. Having worked and associated with Yunbok for four years, they had witnessed the noble traits of his character. His integrity, diligence, refinement, generosity, consideration and his compassion for the unfortunate. With most of their children attending his free classes, to be offered a chance to improve themselves, what other proof was there of his sincere qualities? Moreover, he had very little association with young women and his behaviour had always been self-effacing.

No. Their colleague had been maligned by this new friend of his. Would he know him better than they did? Why, he had only known Yunbok for a relative short time. They fell silent as Chang-sun arrived with a guilt strickened Young-joon. That look on his face was enough to confirm their suspicions. As one, they stared at him with dark looks.

"What did master Park say?" Chang-sun asked anxiously as Chang-su came up with a basin of water taken from one of the pots boiling away on the fires.

"He didn't say anything, just chased everyone out except for that lady who came looking for brother Seo," he stepped up to the door.

The door opened to his call and was locked again once he handed in the basin. Fires were kindled as day faded into night. Nobody wanted to go home though they finished the tasks of the day, Gathered around the fires, they settled down to wait for further developments. Chang-uk went down to the village with his brothers and came back with enough food and drinks for everyone. Young-joon sat in a corner of the porch, furthest away from the others. He shook his head when Chang-su offered him a musirutteok.

"Don't be a fool," Chang-su said impatiently. "Brother Seo will have my head if I do not take care of you," he thrust the musirutteok into Young-joon's hands and walked away.

Young-joon stared at the food in misery. Chang-su's words was only one more emphasis on the benedictus of his friend. How often had his father told him; "If you are patient in a moment of anger, you will escape a hundred days of sorrow." Why did he not control his temper? What was he thinking of? He wanted to take back what he had done, what he had said that afternoon. Undo everything. He was sorry he had lost his head. He wanted brother Seo to be fine. His hands throbbed painfully and he was glad of it. Fitting punishment for his foolishness. He shivered in the cold but he did not make a move to get closer to the campfires. The silent condemnation of everyone there was as thick as gravy.

Ae-young accepted the musirutteok and the bowl of hot tea from Chang-sun, huddling by the front door. Cold though it was, she was reluctant to move to the campfires. Not with the presence of so many men and the strained atmosphere. Looking at master Han, she was convinced the fight was over her mistress and that bewildered her. Her mistress had always kept a far distance from the men she entertained even though they were mostly older men who only wanted a quiet evening with soothing music to listen to. A time to forget their daily strifes. But it was different with this young man who had visited just once.

Ever since her mistress met him that night, she had seemed to be waiting, looking eagerly at every caller before turning moody, always looking at that butterfly pendant of hers. She supposed the pendant was a gift from her mistress's beloved. But if he was her mistress's lover, why did he not visit her? Why instead, her mistress had to take the initiative to come looking for him? Did he no longer care for her? If so, he should have clarified it. If he had, there wouldn't be a fight. How unfortunate for young master Han. She looked over to his bowed figure in the other corner. He must be condeming himself for his actions and words.

In the back room, Suk-kwon removed the stored and prepared medicine pouches from the medicine chest, running his mind over symptoms and treatments. If the wound swell seriously, his apprentice would be in deep trouble. He prayed silently that the fates would be kind and turned to the door. "Can I come in?" he raised his voice so Jeong-hyang could hear him.

"Please do."

He went to the kitchen and came back with a basin of water. "What did you find?" he murmured as he examined Yunbok again.

"There are no other bites but there is bruising on his left ribs. It looks like somebody kicked him."

"Kicked him?" Suk-kwon muttered angrily. "I'm going to have to examine that area," he pulled back the quilt. "Can you point out where?"

Gently, he pressed the place she indicated, listening intently. To his relief, there was no indication of broken bones. He examined the bite wound again, there was no change in the size of the swelling. The tension in him slackened slightly. Opening one of the medicine pouches, he scattered some herbs into the basin of water and then used it to clean the wound. As he was about to bandage it, Jeong-hyang offered a suggestion. "Will honey help with the wound?"

"Honey?" his brows shot up and he regarded the wound thoughtfully. "Is that something you were taught to use for wounds?"

"It's something I have seen a ajumma do when I was a child. She always used honey on wounds," she explained. "The results were often better than expected."

"But you are not sure in this case, are you?" he said and frowned when she nodded. "Honey is beneficial. There's no harm in trying. There's some in the kitchen, small pot on the lowest shelf next to the door."

When she came back with the pot, he watched as she prepared a clean piece of cloth, spread it with honey before covering the wound and binding it up. Like her, he was aware of dressing wounds with honey but not in the case of snake bites. He had her prepared the same poultice on a longer piece of cloth and had her bound it lightly around Yunbok's bruised ribs, turning his head away as she did so. He continued in his examination once she was done.

"He's going to get double vision once he wakes up," he muttered, looking into Yunbok's eyes and feeling gently at his neck. The muscles were becoming rigid. His breathing was shallow. "With his bruised ribs, he will have more difficulty in breathing. He knocked his head too." Lightly, he felt the small bump at the side of Yunbok's head.

"Is there an antidote to the poison?" she asked anxiously.

"I was waiting for the first symptoms to appear. I can't treat directly if I don't know what're the problems," Suk-kwon muttered. "But yes, there is an antidote. I know the type of snakes that live in this area and kept the medicines ready. I'll go make the medicine now. If you see any changes in his colouring or breathing, come get me," he hurried into the kitchen with the medicine pouches and basin of water.

"Painter, you are going to get well. You can't leave as yet." Jeong-hyang gently touched Yunbok's face before bringing up his right hand to her face. Tracing the scar, she recalled the days back at Hanseong. "I've missed you these four years. There is still so much I want to tell you. There are still stories and paintings you have to share with me. Please don't go. What am I without my painter? Do you hear me Painter?" A tear trickled down her cheek and she wiped it away.

How long she sat there, she had no idea, repeating the words until they were akin to a mantra. Suk-kwon came in silently, bearing a bowl of medicine which he handed to her before putting some cloths down beside her.

"He's not conscious so I'm going to hold him a little more upright, you feed him this slowly." Carefully, he pushed Yunbok up, listening to the rhythm of his breathing, steadying him when he threatened to slide to the side. "Once he wakes up later, he'll have to drink more. Slowly," he said as she began to spoon the medicine into Yunbok's mouth.

"Is he getting any of it?" she asked anxiously as it seemed that more liquid dribbled out than going in. Hurriedly, she tucked a piece of cloth around his neck before his clothes and the floor were stained.

"Don't worry, he is swallowing, see?" Suk-kwon nodded to the slight movement along Yunbok's throat.

It seemed to take forever but eventually, the bowl was empty. Jeong-hyang mopped up the split liquid with another cloth. After laying Yunbok back down on the bedding, Suk-kwon opened the front door. Anxious faces looked up at him and the men gathered around, shooting fast and furious queries. Putting up a hand to halt the questions, he said, ""He's all right."

Everyone visibly relaxed. "It's late, all of you have better take your rest. I'm sure Seo Yong appreciates your concern but he would kick your butts if he knew you are all trying to be shinseon out here." The men laughed, vastly relieved. If master Suk-kwon could joke, then all was well. "Take the day off tomorrow, and report back to work the day after. Be off with you." A muffled cheer greeted this announcement and the men dispersed, putting out the campfires before they left. Some good had come out of the incident, a day of rest!

Young-joon got up and stood with a bowed head, ready for any reprimand. "Young master Han, I think you'd better come in," Suk-kwon said harshly. "You too." he said to Ae-young who was wondering if she had to spend the night out in the cold.

Moving on weighted feet, Young-joon slowly made his way into the daecheong. The sight of Yunbok shook him so badly he had to sit down. His friend looked so white and hardly seemed to be breathing. If Suk-kwon hadn't said he was fine, he would have believed he was dead. Lifting a trembling hand to Yunbok's face, he felt he had to check for himself but Suk-kwon's voice arrested the movement.

"He's alive, master Han," Suk-kwon said coldly. "Tell me, what happened out there?"

"I ran away," Young-joon bowed his head, unable to look at anyone. Especially the woman sitting across from him. "I was angry, I did not want to listen. Brother Seo was trying to stop me, saying the hills were not safe in the dark. I did not want to listen. I.. I tripped and fell down against some rocks. I think, that was the viper's hibernating nest. I did not see.. see it as it was behind me but brother Seo tried to warn me. I did not listen and ...and...kicked him when he went for the snake. I...I..," he stuttered to a stop, feeling how lacking he was.

"Are you ready to listen now?" Jeong-hyang asked. He flinched but did not raise his head. "Painter.." The affection in her voice compelled him to lift his head. A tiny spark of jealousy rose in him whe he saw the look in her eyes but he forced it down. You have no right to feel this way, he admonished himself silently.

"That's what I called him. Painter. That was That was four years ago in Hanseong. He was just a art student then, I was a gayageum player at a gibang. Our first meeting was a light touch of wind, he was the first to see me while I meandered on, unseeing. Our second encounter was a clash of words. The third was a meeting of souls. The fourth was when I lost my heart to him. But fate was against us and we had to part. We knew we had no future together and his last wish for me was to find happiness. I left, even though I did not want to, because he had another path to take."

Four years. Young-joon looked from her to Yunbok. Didn't his friend mention parting with a lost love once before?

""These four years, I have tried my best to forget, to find the happiness he wanted me to find but I could never let go of my love for Painter. So I waited, even if we never meet again, still I vowed to wait. Hoping aganst hope that some day we will cross each other's path once more. And then, you brought him to my house that night. I waited for him to come and see me, but he never did. I didn't know where I could find him until that night when you came, when I had to repudiate you, young master Han. It was from you I found out where he was. I only saw him again today. There was no plot to harm you."

"Why did he encourage me to woo you?" Young-joon was confused.

"Because of what I said to him when we parted. That our fate was predestined to end at Hanseong. And knowing what he is now, he has not changed that opinion. But I have. He wants the best for me but I do not agree with what he thinks is for my benefit."

Humbled by the obvious affections between them, Young-joon did not know what to say. Disappointed he might be at losing Jeong-hyang but the enormity of what he had unleashed upon his friend and himself sickened him. Why did he not have more self-control?

"Master Han, I think it is time you go home," Suk-kwon broke in, fingering his beard thoughtfully.

Shocked, Young-joon stared at him. Leave? How could he leave without making sure his friend had recovered? "No, I can't leave like this. I.. want to..," he protested. "I have to stay to make sure he makes a full recovery, to atone for my mistakes. How can I leave?"

"You can't do anything here. You'll only get in the way," Suk-kwon said bluntly, not sparing his feelings. The young man needed some time to reflect on his actions.

Seeing his devastated look, Jeong-hyang couldn't help feeling sorry for him. To be told he was a hindrance, to be forbidden to redeem himself, would only add more weight to his guilt. However, she could not fault Suk-kwon's desire to get him away from Yunbok. But perhaps she could lighten his burden a little. "You can escort my maid back to town," she suggested and turned to her maid. "Ae-young, I want you to pack some of my clothing and send them here."

Suk-kwon was startled but said nothing. The decision was hers to make and he had no right to object, not after learning of the history between her and Yunbok. Quite a quagmire his apprentice got himself into and if he knew his rascal, he had simply fell into the pit just like the fledgling he would have been four years ago. It would be interesting to hear his point of view.

"Will you be coming back, mistress?" Ae-young asked quietly.

"It depends."

On how her beloved would receive her? But would he refuse her? Ae-young could understand his desire for wanting the best for her mistress but surely he would realise that she would have no other? If her mistress did end up with him, she hesitated. "Mistress...I," she was reluctant to ask but she didn't to leave her mistress's service for she had treated her more as a sibling than an employee. She wanted to remain with her if she could. "Can I remain with you if..."

Much as she would like to give a positive answer, still, Jeong-hyang felt she couldn't make the decision. She looked at Suk-kown who frowned as he considered the ramifications of having a third party moving at will between the two houses. But if handled properly, it should be manageable. Depending on developments, she could be sent away later.

Seeing his nod of assent, Jeong-hyang said, "You can remain with me if you want." A smile lit up Ae-young's face.

"Mistress, what am I to tell the others?" The gisaeng would be sure to question her when they see her moving their belongings.

"Tell Iseul, that I will send her a letter to explain my departure," Jeong-hyang said, thinking that she would invite her long time friend and sister gisaeng for a visit once she was settled down. "As for the others, just say I have to gone to stay elsewhere for a while."

"Then it is settled. Master Han, I think you have better set off now before the gates close. I'll send a couple of my workers to help your maid move your belongings tomorrow," Suk-kwon stood up.

"No, I'll do it. I'll take care of the arrangements tomorrow," Young-joon got up to look at Suk-kwon steadfastly and defiantly. He would not be browbeaten by guilt. No, he would not.

There was some backbone to the young fellow after all. Suk-won nodded grudgingly. Young-joon followed him to Yunbok's home to pick up his coat and gat. Desolation welled in him as he looked around the daecheong. More than anything, he wanted to stay. Suk-kwon grabbed spare beddings and quilts from the back room.

"Are you done?" he asked Young-joon, aware of the young man's melancholy but unrelenting in his desire to have him away from Yunbok.

"Yes, sir. You will tell me if he recovers? Or...or if ..," Young-joon pleaded.

"That I will," Suk-kwon interrupted. "Best be on your way before it gets too late and the town gates closed."

He kindled a torch for Young-joon and watched as the young man led his horse away, lighting the way for Ae-young before returning to his own house.

"I think you'd rather stay out here," he said, handing Yunbok's bedding to Jeong-hyang. He looked at her speculatively, musing over her story. She waited, knowing he had questions. "Knowing what he is, you're still willing to stay with him?"

"I do," she could understand his bewilderment and tried to explain. "When I first met him, I thought of him as a brash young man of no manners. But as we continue to run into each other in unexpected ways, I began to discern the quality in him when he could empathsize with my song visions and I began to like him more and more each time we meet. Due to unforeseen circumstances, he revealed the truth about himself. I was shattered. What I beheld was not real. The hurt was so great I thought I'd die from it. In the midst of this trouble, more problems arise that threatened both our lives. It was then I realised that I did not care what he is, that I love him but he would not hear of going away with me. He was bent on achieving his objective."

"And what was that?"

"Vengence against the man who bought me. They had a history although he never said what it was. Only that it could only be paid in blood. With his former master's help, he was able to bring his enemy to ruin. After freeing me, he sent me away. Then, I knew we have no fate. He had another road to walk with his former master and I wished him well in it. I had thought he would be working with master Danwon, never thinking he would leave his master and strike out on his own."

"And you never tried to do what he asked?"

"I did. How could I not try to fulfill his wish?" she sighed. "But like the boat adrift on the sea, all I want is the wind. Can you imagine what it was like when he walked in? I wanted to stay by his side. To share his burdens, his joys, his dreams, everything he had ever experienced. I waited but he never came to see me."

"So you sought him out," nodded Suk-kwon. "But he is adamant you should look for someone else, isn't he?" he shook his head when she did not answer. "What are you going to do if he doesn't change his mind?"

"Then I will return to the gibang, to live out my days in loneliness."

"That's going to make him even more unhappy if he knows."

"Not if I never tell him where I would be going."

Suk-kwon opened his mouth, then shut it. What could he say? The matter was between them, he had no right to interfere. Desiring to change the subject, Jeong-hyang ventured a question. "Sir, he told me of the training you have given him. While I understand the reasons behind it, did you have to treat him so roughly?"

"Look at him now and tell me what you see," he said. She frowned before her brows cleared. "You see a man, don't you? A rather frail looking fellow. That is what the others see. If I were to treat him any differently, they will question. Won't that harm him? As I once told him, he made a choice. A difficult choice that he has to suffer greater hardships in order to maintain it. He must be able to face what challenges fate throws at him."

A moan from Yunbok cut off their conversation. Sweat beaded his forehead and his skin was flushed and hot as Suk-kwon touched his face.

"He's starting to have a fever. In a way, that's a good sign. It means his body is fighting the poison. Try to keep him cool and get him to drink, if he can."

Throughout the remainder of the night, she watched over Yunbok, using a towel dipped in cool water countless times to cool his fever. He could not drink from the bowl so she used a clean cloth to drip some water into his mouth. At times, he would mumble incoherently and called out names she could recognise. His dead foster brother. Sometimes he would call her name. At other intervals, he would call for his old master, Danwon Kim Hong-do. The worst was when he called for his dead parents for he would cry piteously. Agitation seized him in such moments and it was all she could do to keep back her tears and try to soothe his pain.

A couple of times, he screamed and babbled frenziedly to someone to stop. To run. It frighened her when he seemed to go into violent convulsions that Suk-kwon had to hold him down. What was this nightmare he was having? Suk-kwon and Jeong-hyang stared anxiously at each other when this particular nightmare kept recurring. What was it that was haunting Yunbok that he couldn't seem to rest? It was dawn when his fever finally broke and he lay quiet. Suk-kwon prepared another bowl of medicine. A few more doses was needed to completely rid of the poison. He checked Yunbok's vital signs as she looked on wearily.

"He's looking good. The poison will be completely eliminated when he finished the course of this medicine."

Yunbok's eyes opened. He frowned blurrily for all he saw were four blurry blobs looking down at him. The pain in his head and his arm made him want to throw up. His neck felt rather stiff and it hurt when he tried to turn his head. Confused, he wondered what had happened.

"Huh?" he croaked with a dry throat.

"Drink this. It'll make you better."

"Jeong-hyang?" he blinked, trying to clear his vision. Why was she at the paper mill?

"Just drink this," an arm raised him and a bowl was at his lips. The liquid tasted terrible and he tried to turn away. "Please, just drink this." Unable to resist that plea, he drank it down. It must be one of his master's dishes. What terrible tasting guk!

"That...'s terrible cooking, master. Th.. worst as...yet," he mumbled before drifting off.

"Rascal," Suk-kwon growled affectionately. "Sometimes I really want to beat him up for the things he say."

Jeong-hyang looked at him horrified. He laughed.

"Oh don't mind me. He's just like a son ...and a daughter to me," he said musingly.

"Master Park, you need to rest." Jeong-hyang said, looking at the shadows around his eyes.

"What, the pot calling the kettle black? You're not better off yourself!" he blinked his weary eyes. "Both of us need to rest. Since he's resting comfortably, I'll take mine in the back room. Call me if you need anything."

As she lay down in her bedding next to Yunbok, she was glad to see his face had a healthy flush. On that positive note, she fell asleep.

* * *

Korean Words

_Musirutteok - layered rice cake with radish_

_Shinseon - sage  
_


	10. Chapter 10

**Daeseol 1781**

Through most of the next day, Yunbok continued to sleep and it was in the late afternoon that he was able to sit up. When queried, he admited that his head still ached and his forearm felt sore. Uncoiling the bandage, Suk-kwon checked the wound. To his relief, the swelling had all but disappeared, leaving behind a pale red blotch with faint indentations of the bite marks. There was no sign of infection. Whether the fast therapeutic effect was due to the honey, he had no idea but he prepared another fresh dressing and bound up the wound. Next he held up his hand before Yunbok.

"How many fingers?" he said, watching Yunbok's eyes.

Yunbok frowned, staring at the hand before his face. His eyes itched but he desisted from rubbing. "Two."

"Turn your head slowly to the right and left. How does your neck feel?"

"A little stiff." Yunbok felt his nape with relief for it was not as uncomfortable as it was last night.

"Still?" Suk-kwon gently pressed his nape. "Hmm, the rigidity has gone but there might be small traces lingering. Take a deep breath."

"Ow," Yunbok winced as his sore left ribs protested as he tried to comply.

"As long as you're breathing normally sitting up like this, there should be no complications. You just need to take the medicine for another two days. If you have other discomforts or pain anywhere, let me know immediately."

Yunbok sighed, rubbing his itching eyes as Jeong-hyang came in with a basin and towel. The silence was broken by the sound of horses and voices outside. Getting up, Suk-kwon went out to investigate.

"Here, you have better wipe your face," Jeong-hyang handed the towel she had wrung dry to Yunbok. He sighed, half wondering what had happened after he had lost consciousness but apparently, she had chosen to stay around for a while. Or was it permanently? A little leap of happiness at that thought followed by dilemma.

"I supposed Young-joon went home?" he fingered the towel as he wondered how his friend was. If blame was to be apportioned, he was equally responsible. She took the towel away from him, wrung it out again and proceeded to wipe his neck and hands. "Hey!" he stared at her, taken aback at her liberty and then wished he hadn't spoken so loudly, it just strengthened the ache in his head.

"Am I so horrid that you can't bear to look at me?"

"Not now, please," he grimaced, deep furrows on his brow and was about to lay down in his bedding when she moved behind him. The next thing he knew, his head was pillowed in her lap and her fingers along his aching temple. "What are you..," he began.

"Quiet," sche scolded softly. He would have gotten up but it seemed too much effort. Gently, she began to massage his brow. So soothing was it that the ache seemed to lessen. His eyes closed. "Painter, why are you so certain our fates will never reconciled? Not because of what you are?" she said when he remained silent. "Your last wish is etched in my heart. I would have fulfilled it in the last four years if I could."

"Why not? It cannot be a lack of admirers."

"There is no lack in numbers. There is a lack in body," her fingers drifted over his face. "How can i choose when their ears are deaf, their tongues are muted, their eyes blind? How can I choose when I unceasingly look for that elusive shadow in them?"

He caught hold of one of her hands as it slide over his cheek and sat up, ignoring the throb in his head and the flash of pain in his ribs. "Hyangya," he looked at her hand, the skin so soft and delicate. A contrast against his own rough and tan skin. The sight of it pained him. "I can't."

"Painter, you can't mean that," she shook her head, struggling not to cry.

Bowing his head so he wouldn't see her hurt, he said softly, "You are asking the impossible."

"No, you can't mean that.."

The pain in her voice reached into him and he wished there was another way of persuading her to turn away from her course. Perhaps the truth? "There is a hovering darkness lurking along the fringes. It has many hands that could stretch forth at any time. I will not have you in their path."

The unexpected admission took her by surprise and her hurt abated slightly. He was only denying her out of concern, not because he no longer feel anything for her. In that moment, she realised the enormity of the ordeal he would face for the rest of his life and her heart ache. "And I will not have you face them alone.."

His head snapped up, eyes flashing in anger. "No.."

"Painter, even if you denied me, still my choice is made and it will never change. Never, not even in death. Don't you understand?" she said earnestly. "There is no other for me and there never will be. All I want is to share everything with you. Please."

"Do you really know what you're asking?" he reached out to gripe her shoulders. "Do you?" he demanded, searching for the truth in her eyes.

"I am nothing but ashes if you turn away now," she said, baring her feelings unflinchingly.

Joy, fear and grief filled him. He wanted to cry but an inner part of him felt frozen and no tears fell. Words that he wanted to say were choked in his throat and he couldn't voice them. Torn between conflicting desires, he could only capitulate to the plea in her eyes and drew her into an embrace, feeling her silent tears of relief at his acquiesce pooling at his shoulder.

_Hyangya, do you know what you have done?_

A girls' voice called at the door and before either of them could respond, it opened and Ae-young walked in with the gayageum. Her eyes widened and she flushed, realising too late she should have waited instead of rushing in. Disentangling herself, Jeong-hyang beckoned to her before she could run out again, indicating she should set down the musical instrument near to her.

"Where did you put our belongings?" she said after seeing there were no other bundles behind Ae-young.

"Ah..master Park put them at...his..," Ae-young directed a significant look in Yunbok's direction,"er...master Seo's house." Were they to stay with the young man? Did that mean that her mistress and he or rather master Seo, had come to an understanding?

Jeong-hyang glanced at Yunbok but he was hunched over, hands to his temples. His headache must have worsen. "Then make sure they're stored properly and asked master Park about dinner preparations."

"Yes, mistress," grabbing the basin and towel on the floor, Ae-young went to the kitchen, sneaking a look at Yunbok as she passed by.

At Jeong-hyang's urging, Yunbok lay himself down in his bedding, feeling as if his head would split. The emotional stress of the previous hour was coming down on him like a boulder and he wished someone would just knock him out again so he wouldn't feel so horrible. As in answer to his prayers, gentle hands began to soothe the tension away and slowly he relaxed. Without realising it, he fell asleep. The next thing he knew, there was the soft plucking tones of the gayageum filling the silence of the room like the flow of crystal clear water.

Turning his head, he drank in the vision of a cherished dream. It didn't seem quite real that she was really there but then, her eyes lifted to meet his and it was as if time had fallen away. Once more they were in that magical world that was theirs alone. How he missed the music, this silent communion that lifted the binding around his heart, filling the void within with dreams he had not dared to hold. His spirit soared and he yearned to paint the songs of her heart. When the music died away, someone sat down next to him.

"Here," Suk-kwon held out a bowl to him.

"Ugh." The smell of the medicine reached Yunbok, rudely dispelling the dream cloud around him. "Can't you put in something to make it taste nicer?"

"Sit up, sit up," Suk-kwon ordered, ignoring his complaint. Smiling at the sour expression on Yunbok's face as he grumpily sat up, Jeong-hyang made her way to the kitchen. "Now, empty this," Suk-kwon said sternly as he handed the bowl over. Heaving a sigh, Yunbok took a deep breath, winced at the ache in his ribs and tried to finish off the medicine at one go. He didn't quite make it and had to breathe through his mouth before draining the last quarter. When he lowered the bowl, it was to find a cup of tea thrust under his nose. What a relief to wash away the dreadful taste in his mouth.

"What have you decided?" Suk-kwon said quietly when he had finished the tea. "Is she to remain?" The conflicted look on his apprentice's face was no surprise to him. "This is between the two of you and need no outside interference but if you want my opinion, this is the one and only chance you will have. Yunbokya," he reached to grip his shoulder, "life is a difficult journey to walk alone and yours is strewn with more peril..."

"That is why I cannot ask her to walk it with me," said Yunbok.

"You may know her far longer than I do but even I can see that her devotion is like the roots of the pine tree. For four years she has weathered the cold, unyielding in her dedication but even the strongest can be brought down by careless thought."

Yunbok swallowed nervously, not certain what Suk-kwon was trying to tell him. "Master, I .."

"Would you rather suffer regrets all your life or face the peril with the one who will always be there with you, for you." When Yunbok didn't answer, Suk-kwon was tempted to knock some sense into him but said instead, "Do not demean her courage with cowardice, that is not you."

Of all the things he thought Suk-kwon to say, the unexpected remark cut Yunbok to the quick. How was it cowardice to not want to place a loved one in danger?

"Why did you let her go four years ago?"

Startled at the question, Yunbok frowned. "I had lied, cheated her of a legitimate prospect because of my own selfish desires. She is the vision of what I wanted to be and I wanted to keep her. I realised I had hurt her, what I did was terribly wrong..."

"You told me your parents were murdered when you were eight years old and your foster father found you, adopted you. For the next ten years, you couldn't remember your own name, where you came from."

"It was all hazy and confusing."

"Then when you confessed the truth to her, that was after you recalled everything, wasn't it?"

"Yes..I.."

"What you did, can not be placed entirely at your feet. Your foster father must bear most of the blame for clouding your mind, twisting your natural self into a form you could not recognise. It sat ill with you, that was why subconsciously, you pursued her. The vision you felt was the real you. You tried to repair the damage but do you know, the wound from the first cut will always remain." Yunbok winced. "But wounds heal. It has been four years and she hasn't forgotten you nor does she hate you. It is time to forge a new road, isn't it?"

Heaving a deep sigh when Yunbok still retained that stubborn look, Suk-kwon said, "Tell me, who are you?"

Brows beetling, Yunbok said slowly, "I am..." He stopped. Who was he? Daughter of Seo Jing, Seo Yun. But he couldn't say it.

Suk-kwon shook his head at his dilemma. "I'd suggest you take some time to think about it and don't be too quick in banishing her," he slapped Yunbok on the shoulder and said in a louder voice, "Now, I want to hear the story of how you met her."

The change in subject didn't suit Yunbok at all but he didn't think Suk-kwon would bother to explain further on that last question. "We met at a cloth shop," he said shortly.

"Aigoo, I think I can get better yarn from the storytellers. Were you buying cloth at the shop?" Suk-kwon prodded.

"I was being chased and I ran into the shop to hide."

"Chased? I can see you attract trouble as moths are to the light, you rascal," Suk-kwon chuckled.

"It's not as if I wanted to," Yunbok muttered, thinking over how a simple painting had lead to so much controversies and deaths. Simple to him perhaps because then, his head was filled with nothing except the desire to draw. What an absolute tyro he was.

"Then what? How did you continue to meet her? I don't think you have the money to patronize the gibang do you?"

"I didn't. She was hired to provide some entertainment at a classmate's birthday party..." A party he was not invited to but he just barged in anyway.

"Well, go on. What then?"

Yunbok shrugged. "I left early but waited for her and managed to persuade her to play her gayageum for me."

"And how much did you pay her?"

"Five nyang."

"Five nyang?" Suk-kwon was incredulous. "Aigoo, how did you charm her into playing for you with just five nyang?"

"I didn't do anything," Yunbok said defensively.

"Really?" Suk-kwon said in disbelief. "I supposed after this, you continued to see her?"

"I...guess so," Yunbok muttered, unwilling to reveal further the events that led him to meet Jeong-hyang three more times when she was still a gisaeng. Once was an unconscious search for help when he deliberately fractured his hand, another when he successfully graduated from Dohwaseo. The last was when he learnt she had been sold.

"You guess so?" Suk-kwon eyed him minutely, wondering what was his apprentice hiding. "From what she told me last night, she was sold to a merchant who apparently had a blood feud with you."

"He was responsible for my parents' murder. I discovered who he was after I recovered my memories."

"And you took revenge on him. What happened to him?"

"He was killed off by his partners." What a satisfying outcome it was. A black heart deserved no less.

"Hmm. Why did you leave your previous master or did he tell you to go?"

"I left because he has greater tasks to attend to than to be chained to a troublesome person like me."

"For once, you are right. You are indeed troublesome," Suk-kwon pronounced with a straight face and then broke into laughter at Yunbok's offended glare. "And to keep you out of further trouble, you are staying here...until you have made up your mind."

"What?" Yunbok said in puzzlement.

"Jeong-hyang and her maid are staying at your house. You, have to stay here unless you want to invite even more gossips."

"Oh." The thought of where Jeong-hyang and the maid would be staying had not crossed Yunbok's mind. He was definitely too befuddled to think straight. Another thought struck him. "What are they saying in the village?"

"Nothing good about master Han. There is much curiosity about the lady who came to see you. So much that a group came up, while you were sleeping, to ask about her. I told them she's your betrothed."

"What!" Yunbok stared at Suk-kwon in horror. "Master, how can you say that?!" he spluttered, shocked that the older man made such an arbitrary announcment.

"It did kill off the flock." Seeing Yunbok's incomprehension, Suk-kwon leaned in. "The flock of pigeons that was constantly pestering you or have you forgotten about them? You did tell them you are betrothed to someone."

"But ..how can you..." Yunbok wondered how was he to explain it to Jeong-hyang if any of the villagers questioned her.

"She fully supported the story." The dumbfounded expression on Yunbok's face was priceless. Suk-kwon laughed heartily.

"You...," began Yunbok in outrage but he closed his mouth when Jeong-hyang and Ae-young brought in the dinner they had prepared. Ill at ease in such an unexpected situation, he could only follow Suk-kwon's lead. Dinner was a silent affair, though the older man had no trouble conversing with the women, complimenting on the food. Near the end of the meal, he suddenly realised he had forgotten someone.

"What happened to Young-joon?"

"He went home that night."

"I see." If Young-joon had gone home, then he was all right. Was his friend still angry with him? Was that why he didn't stay around? How was he to heal the breach, Yunbok wondered.

Guessing what he was thinking, Suk-kwon added, "I sent him away although he wanted to stay. He'll just get in the way."

Discerning his master's major concern, Yunbok couldn't find any fault in his decision. Still, he would have to speak to Young-joon. If only to apologise for unintentionally giving him such heartache. Feeling in need of air, he got to his feet and went out to the porch. The air was biting and chilling. He had forgotten to put on his coat but he didn't feel like going back in so he sat down at the far end of the porch. Staring up at the night sky, he wondered how was he to resolve the conundrum. Should he just accept Jeong-hyang's offer? Or should he refuse it? Either options presented a web of problems he wasn't sure he could deal with. Something soft and warm was flung on him and he looked up startled.

"Do you want to fall sick?" scolded Jeong-hyang as she pulled his coat around him before sitting down beside him as he mumbled his thanks. "I see master Suk-kwon has told you how he dealt with your ...future prospects."

"Future prospects?" he chuckled thinly. "I don't understand them really."

"Don't you? What woman wouldn't want the qualities you have shown in your thoughtful unsparing generosity? What woman wouldn't want the promise of a thoughtful lover?"

"Ugh," he rubbed his brow wearily and heaved a sigh. "I can't help what they think. My only concern is with the needy."

"What were you going to do if they persisted?"

"With most of them already affianced, it's unlikely they can do anything. But I would leave if they try too hard."

Silence fell between them. Tempted though Jeng-hyang was to seek his opinion on Suk-kwon's solution, she was wary of pressing him too soon for his acceptance of her presence was tenuous. Until he had stated his stance where she was concerned, she would just have to wait and see. As she saw it, there was no urgency in the matter. As long as he didn't push her away, she was content to bide her time.

"What happened after you left Hanseong?" he said suddenly.

Pleased that he was curious, she said, "When you told me to get ready to leave, such was the urgency that I hadn't spent much thought on where I could go. On the boat, I tried to think of a place. But it was difficult. My father was the leader of a travelling troupe but we lost touch after I was sold. Anyone I knew before were mostly from the troupe and those at the village where we lived but it was so long ago. I could barely remember the place. If there were other relatives, I knew them not for oboji never mentioned any. Even if I knew of any of them, I doubt they would readily accept me. I was at a lost."

Ahh, to be wrenched away at a young age. It was a story akin to his own. Involuntarily, he reached to take her hand in empathy.

"Staying indefinitely at lodgings of jumak was too dangerous, settling anywhere else, alone," Jeong-hyang shook her head. "People would question. If I had friends in other villages or towns, I would have asked for aid but any friends I have are gisaeng. So I wrote to Iseul. We grew up together at the training institution and we maintained contact even after we left for our respective gibang. She offered lodgings so I came here. I took up needlework to earn some income and teach young girls who were recruited. Then one day, a customer of Iseul heard me playing the gayageum and asked if I could not play some tunes for him. As I am no longer a gisaeng, I declined. But he persisted and asked if I could not just treat him as a friend, not a customer. All he wanted was music to soothe his cares away. Seeing he was sincere, I agreed but told him I could not accept payment as that would mean I was contravening the law. So he said I could accept gifts from a friend and always brought with him what he called tokens of appreciation."

"What did he bring you?" Yunbok asked curiously.

"It varies. Food, cloth, a piece of jewellery. Through him, I gradually acquired a few others. I had to be careful not to overstep the bounds and had to be stringent. He is a good and kind man. It was unfortunate something went wrong for his business and he decided to retire to his old hometown. Before he left, he handed Ae-young to my care. She was very young then and asked me to look after her as he did not wish her to seek employment elsewhere."

"I see. I didn't know there are such rules."

"Gisaeng are divided into two categories. Those who have no notable skills are often relegated to providing the only entertainment they are capable of."

"Oh...I see," he said, understanding what she meant at once. "What is the second group you were in?"

"Haengsu gisaeng. Those who are trained in the arts. Dancing, poetry, musical instruments. Haengsu gisaeng have certain freedom in choosing their clients if they were popular but should madam decide she should entertain someone, she has to comply unless she has a reasonable excuse," she sighed and absently traced the scar on his hand. "That evil man had done me a good turn by puchasing me. With his death, I'm a free woman. Thus I have more discretion in the calibre of the guests I accept than the haengsu gisaeng who may have almost the same freedom but is bound to the gibang she is sold to. She cannot ever leave the district unless there is official approval."

"Heh, fancy him doing a good deed. Good riddance," he snorted.

"Painter," she hesitated. Should she bring it up? What if it caused him more unhappiness? But she really desired to know more about his background just as he wished to know hers.

"What is it?"

"You never really told me how was it you ended up with the established identity of a man. That night, you only said you had to assume the guise because you had to enter Dohwaseo, to be a royal painter. But that is not the entire story, is it? The way you conducted yourself then, it's too credible to be improvised."

"For that, I have my foster father to thank. After my parents were killed by an assassin sent by Kim Jo-nyeon, he came searching for me because there was no report of a dead child. He had conjectured, rightly, that I had survived. I was able to because ommoni hid me under the stove and told me to make no noise, no matter what I hear. Not only did I hear, but I saw them killed before my very eyes."

"Painter," she was horrified, understanding at once the trauma he had gone through.

"I was eight years old then," he continued. "The shock was too great, I forgot who I was. Shin Han-pyeong, who was to become my foster father used to visit us occasionally and he knew I had artistic talents. I was found dazed and wandering in the courtyard. I do not know if that was his initial plan and not out of concern for a lost child but I think that was what he planned. When he brought me to his home, he introduced me to his household as a boy. For the next ten years, I was brought up as a boy."

Ten years. As a boy, he was not as limited in freedom as he would be if he were brought up as a girl. Days of thrills and adventures with Young-bok whenever they were free to do as they liked. And then had come the time when everything didn't seem to make sense. When he was summoned by his foster mother.

"It was so complex and confusing," he shook his head as he thought of what his foster mother had told him. "I knew what I am and yet it never occurred to me to question, to say no or..," he paused as he sought to explain it. "Perhaps it was because I could not recall my past, I was just happy to do what I was told. Being treated and raised as a boy was perhaps a better reality I could accept. And painting was all I wanted to do. In a way, I suppose ... painting was another means of escape for me Subconsciously, perhaps, I did not want to remember. My foster father, was of course, pleased I was devoted to art. He would constantly drum into me that I was to bring honour and prestige to the family, to the ancestors by improving my drawing, by becoming a royal painter. My foster brother, Young-bok, was like a bodyguard. Often he was reminded to look after me, to watch out for me when we entered Dohwaseo. It was not until master Danwon was tasked to investigate my parents' murders that I recalled who I was."

"How could anyone twist and make use of a child to fulfill his own ambitions?" she was aghast at the callousness of Yunbok's foster father.

"What's done is done." Yunbok sighed. "I have no regrets that fate had played out the way it had. If I were to succeed at Dohwaseo, if I were to fulfill my foster father's ambitious plan, what do you think would be the consequences if I were found out much later?" Her sharp indrawn breath was all the answer he needed. He nodded. "I would not be alive today and the shame would cast my foster father's name to the depths."

"You are right," she conceded. "It is better this way."

How strange and enlivening it was, to speak with no fear to someone who understand him completely. It was so unusual Yunbok didn't know what to make of it.

Puzzled by his searching gaze, Jeong-hyang said, "What is it?"

"Nothing. You have not taken your dinner, have you?"

"You came out here without your coat..," she began.

"It's very remiss of me," he got up. "Come, let's go back in," he pulled her to her feet. She couldn't help but smiled when he hurried her to the door. Perhaps there was hope after all.


	11. Chapter 11

**Daeseol 1781**

Before she could carry out her plan of visiting Young-joon, Kyoung-mi heard from Heon-sook that her cousin had returned from the paper mill during the night and did not seem to be in a good mood. It was so totally unexpected that she didn't know what to do. Perhaps she should find out what had happened. Accordingly, she went to his room the next day. Only to find that he had been locked up with his father for almost the entire night before going out again that morning. What was going on? Then her uncle came out to the daecheong and she fled to the anbang before he could see her.

Almost beside herself with anxiety, she ordered the gate servant to notify her as soon as her cousin returned and retired to her room to wait. As the hours slipped by, she tried desperately to come up with a plan to settle her own problem but no matter how she think about it, it all came to a dead end. Completely confused by her mistress's behaviour, Heon-sook could only sit by and though she tried to persuade Kyoung-mi to have her mid day meal, it was rejected. The day wore on and it was late afternoon before a servant came by to announce Young-joon's return. Like an arrow, Kyoung-mi immediately rushed out and managed to catch up to Young-joon before he stepped into his study room. To her dismay, he brushed her aside as she attempted to speak to him.

"I'm sorry, Kyoung-miya. I need some moments of peace. Please do not disturb me," was all he said before locking himself in his study room.

Stumped, she stared at the door. What was she to do? Going to her uncle was out of the question. The look on his face when she saw him earlier was frightening. One she had never seen before. What had her cousin done? Worst, how would her uncle react if he knew what she herself had done? On and on, the questions revolved in her mind. For the next three days, she hardly had any rest as she struggled with her guilt. Afraid her uncle would see her distress, she did not attend to him as she usually did. He noticed her absence of course, and she could only send Heon-sook with the excuse that she was mildly ill. It could not go on forever. Sooner or later, he would seek her out to find out the reason behind her illness.

If only Young-joon would come out of his self incarceration. Finally, she could not bear it anymore and went to seek her cousin, hoping he would not turn her away.

For three days, Young-joon stayed in his room, trying vainly to expunge the hatred he had for himself. He had kept nothing back from his father when he returned that night and the stern disapproval and castigation for his foolish actions was what he rightly deserved. His father should have betstowed the heaviest of punishment on him instead of forbidding him to step out of the house without his permission. It was difficult for him not to go back to the paper mill and find out for himself what was happening to his friend. He sighed heavily. It was all very well to send a servant to inquire but it was far better to face his friend and asked for forgiveness.

The sound of his cousin's voice at the door annoyed him. "I said I do not want to be disturb!" he barked angrily. Could she not leave him alone? If it was about the untouched meals, he was in no mood to explain.

"Please, cousin. I need your help, it's about brother Seo."

He frowned at the desperation in her tone. What was so urgent? Reluctantly, he told her to come in and was startled at the sight of her. Why was she looking so haggard? Where was her maid? His frown deepened when he observed her almost fearful approach. "What is it?" his puzzlement increased as she wrung her hands, seeming unable to speak. The problem must be more critical than he thought.

"Cousin...I...I think I have committed a grievous blunder."

"Blunder?" His attention was caught and he stared at her, his anger with himself forgotten. "What is it, speak clearly." When she looked down without speaking, he said impatiently, "Speak up!"

Fumbling in her sleeve, she drew out a rolled up parchment and spread it on his desk. Stretching out his hands to prevent it from rolling up again, he looked at it and realised it was a painting. Beautifully drawn with delicate and precise brushstrokes. It looked somewhat familiar. Looking this way and that, it finally dawned on him that the painting was a scene of the night of the attempted robbery. There was his cousin, sitting on the ground, ready to defend herself. And there he was, with a valiant air. Whoever had painted it had seen the entire event with his own eyes. Who was it?

"Hyewon. Shin Yunbok," he read. Hyewon? Where had he heard that name before? Hyewon. Shin Yunbok. The memory stayed tantalisingly out of reach. "Where did you get this, Kyoung-miya?" he looked up when she didn't answer and was startled by the sick cast of her face. It boded ill. "What is going on?" he demanded.

"I... begged brother Seo to give it to me. The day we went to the temple. I saw he was painting at the pavillion and liked this painting so much...I ...asked him for it."

Painting? Brother Seo? "He was painting this?" he asked to be sure. When she nodded, he asked another question "You asked him for this painting?" When she didn't answer, he thought he knew what she had done. "Asked? Begged? Or perhaps you intimidated him?"

Her face went red before going deathly white. "It doesn't matter! I asked him to sign it but he refused, saying he was a nobody."

"If he didn't sign it, how is it there are seals on this painting?

"I..I..," she suttered.

Dread grew in Young-joon at her expression of guilt. "What? What did you do? Cousin!" he slapped the desk. With trembling hands, she withdrew a box from a pouch and dropped it on the desk. A seal box. Two seals fell out into his hand when he opened it. When he examined them, he found that they matched the stamps on the painting. Anger began to build as suspicion grew. "Where did you get these seals?"

"The day when we visited the paper mill, when I was at brother Seo's house, I...took them from his...cabinet...,' she stuttered.

He stared at her in horrified amazement. "_What_?!" he bellowed when he found his voice again. "What did you say? You .._stole_ these from brother Seo? How can you do such a thing?! Kyoung-mi, what were you thinking of?" he raged. "In the name our ancestors...," he shook his head, unable to fathom his cousin's action.

"I know I have commmitted a crime but there is worst," she whispered.

Worst? What could be worst than theft? Young-joon took a deep breath to calm himself, recalling how much damage his anger had recently caused. "What was it?" he said coldly.

"I went to the art gallery at the marketplace to find out about Hyewon Shin Yun-bok because I could not recall where I have heard that name. I learnt that he was the top royal painter who had that competition against his master, Danwon Kim Hongdo four years ago. Surely you remember that, cousin?"

Of course he knew about the competition. There had been wide spread excitement and many merchants had actually tried to attend it. He had wanted to go as well but his father had refused to give permission. He gestured to her to continue.

She continued in a more steady voice. "According to the proprietor, Hyewon disappeared after the competition and was never heard of again. The proprietor said there is great interest in Heywon's art because there haven't been any more pieces of his work appearing since then. He wanted to buy this painting because he was absolutely certain it was painted by Hyewon and wanted to buy it from me. It was then that I knew I had made an even worst blunder."

"What is that?"

"Cousin, don't you remember the rumors then on the resignation of the high ranking minister not long after? That it had something to do with the painters? What if they had been involved in the political fallout? What if Hyewon had played a part in it? Wouldn't it explain his disappearance?" Young-joon frowned. "Brother Seo had not wanted to give me the painting but I...just took it from him. When you invited him home for dinner, he wanted to trade the painting for another but I didn't understand his objection to my retaining this painting. When I heard the proprietor's tale, I knew at once brother Seo must be Hyewon. My going to the art gallery has very likely...exposed him to his enemies."

A chill settled over Young-joon when he heard that. His cousin was probably right. He looked down at the painting with fresh understanding and he could see the skills that proclaimed Hyewon's talent. If his friend had no wish to be found, if he was deliberately keeping his real identity hidden. "When did you visit the art gallery?"

"Five days ago. I was trying to talk to you but you shut yourself away and uncle looked so forbidding..," she trailed off at the look of terror on his face.

_Five days_! Many things would be happening in five days. He wanted to berate himself. At her. He had to do something. What could he do? Frantically, he searched for a solution. "There is no time to lose, we must tell aboji!" he replaced the seals in the seal box, grabbed the painting and towed a frightened Kyoung-mi after him. Outside his father's study room, Young-joon forced himself to ask for entrance in a calm voice instead of rushing in. The sight of old master Han's stern countenance was somewhat intimidating but Young-joon only greeted him politely and waited to be told to be seated.

Although perplexed by his niece's nervousess, old master Han gestured to his son to speak. What did Young-joon have to say this time? He looked down at the painting his son placed on his desk and listened without interruption. If anything, his face grew even darker and forbidding at the end of the tale. Kyoung-mi quaked at the sight. He did not take long to give Young-joon his instruction.

"Young-joon, I want you to ride to the paper mill. Tell master Park I would like to see him on a matter of utmost urgency. Do you understand? Tell him it's of the utmost urgency. Go, now."

Surprised at first, Young-joon immediately leaped to his feet. "Yes aboji!"

"Young-joon!" Old master Han arrested his forward rush.

"Yes aboji?" Abashed, Young-joon turned around and bowed.

"You don't have to make a commotion. Behave as normal."

"Oh, yes, aboji. I'll be leaving now." Of course his father was right. Why didn't he think of that? Young-joon left at a more temperate pace.

Kyoung-mi bowed her head as old master Han looked at her. "Unbridled desires cause more harm than good. Thus are clans, families and nations fall in dissolute hands."

"Yes, uncle," she whispered, hardly daring to speak.

"You have been dishonest, committed an act of grave discourtesy and crime against your host. You have endangered the life of a loyal beloved subject of his Majesty, niece." Her colour turned even worst when she heard that. "That is treason."

"I...have no excuse, uncle," she bowed her head. "What...will happen?"

"If we are fortunate, we can resolve this quickly and quietly. If we are not... it all depends... it all depends," he stroke his beard and sighed. It was a nice mess she had stirred up through her passion. A capricious sentiment that could not be grasped. He looked at the painting again. Hyewon. Yes, this was truly his work. He glanced at the painting he had hung on the wall behind his desk and shook his head as he recalled the young man's exposition.

The chill and fear that had gripped Kyoung-mi abated slightly now that she had confessed her misdeeds. It had been so difficult. It had felt like an entire world was weighing on her the last five days that she felt she would go mad. She shivered. She was not afraid to die for her mistakes but the most important thing was that brother Seo was not harmed. If there was anything she could do to avert the calamity that may befall him, she would do it.

Out on the road to the village, Young-joon urged his horse into a fast gallop as his heart hammered with both fear and anxiety. Five days! He wished he hadn't been so foolish. If anything happend to his friend, he had only himself to blame. The worst of it would fall on his cousin but to him, that made no difference. Both of them had equal share in the disaster. The chill of the air speeding by slowly cooled his heated thoughts and he was able to marvel that his friend was that famed artist and the ingenuity of his cover. As a labourer at the paper mill, no one would ever suspect him. The only times he ever lifted a brush would be at the seodang. Who would ever think to look beyond the face of an ordinary sonsaengnim in a village?

Hyewon. it was no wonder his friend was erudite even though he was just two years older than him. The scope of his experiences and exposure to the imperial jungle, trials and tribulations would have been extensive beyond his own. Brief though their time was together, somehow, he felt more comfortable with brother Seo than anyone else. Perhaps it was because he was the only one who was opened to his opinions and sincere in his support.

The village came into sight and he slowed his horse to a canter for he did not wish to alarm or injure anyone along the path. Heads turned as he passed. Many looked askance at his return, wondering what he wanted. At the paper mill, he dismounted. Stifling the impulse to rush to Yunbok's house, he kept a tight hold on the reins and looked for Suk-kwon among the workers. He found him feeding the fire at a stove but the older man forestalled his greeting by demanding, "What're you doing here?"

Understanding that the older man still bore him some ill will, Young-joon bowed and said softly, "Master Park, my father has a message for you. He says, he must see you on a matter of utmost urgency."

Not seeming to hear, Suk-kwon continued to throw in wood. Just when Young-joon was about to repeat the message, he dusted his hands and said, "All right, tell your father I'll see him as soon as possible but that old goat had better buy me two jugs of wine."

What kind of message was that to tell his father? It was most disrespectful. Young-joon opened his mouth but Suk-kwon shook him as he repeated the statement. "Don't question. Just tell him exactly that," he said before heading to his house.

Young-joon looked after him, wondering if he should try to see brother Seo but decided against it. The older man would no doubt throw him out. He mounted his horse and went home, puzzling over the offensive message. When old master Han heard the reply, he only chuckled and shook his head.

Opening the door to the daecheong, Suk-kwon was pleased to find Yunbok alone at the desk. The women must be in the kitchen. Sitting himself by the desk, he picked up the nearest ledger and eyed the tally Yunbok was marking on the completed hanji of the past few days, checking orders that had to be completed. If they were not behind schedule, he would be preparing the underground storage for the winter barley seeds soon. After a glance at the kitchen door, he murmured, "Do you have any other paintings kept elsewhere besides the paper tube?"

Yunbok paused. Why was he asking about that? "No, every painting I have is in the paper tube. Is there a problem?" he asked when the older man only nodded.

"Just curious," he said dismissively at Yunbok's puzzled stare. "Are you finished with the ledgers? You're done? Right, I'll put them away."

What was his master up to? Yunbok watched him stride away to his room with the ledgers. Slowly, he cleared away the writing materials even as he tried to deduce the purpose behind the question. With the desk cleared, he sat there thinking until the women brought in the dinner. Throughout the meal, he scrutinized Suk-kwon closely but there didn't seem to be anything odd about his behaviour. What was truly odd was the atmosphere of the past few days. Late that night, as he lay in his bedding in the daecheong, he thought about it. It was like a strange limbo in which they seemed to live in time frozen. All that was needed was a chink in the ice to shatter the illusion of the complete household.

And he was afraid he would be the one to shatter it. He had once seen a mouse trapped on an island, barely bigger than his hand, in a rapidly flooding river. It had whirled round and round on its lone dry land, hardly knowing where to go. He felt like that mouse. If he leaped off, would he drown or would he make it to shore? A sigh escaped him as he stared up at the ceiling, the oil lamp flickering behind him. She was waiting, waiting for an answer and he just didn't know what he ought to do. Sighing again, he put out the oil lamp, pulled the blanket over himself and tried to sleep.

It seemed he had barely closed his eyes when someone was shaking him awake. "Eh?" For a moment, in the dim light, he thought a bear had come into the daecheong. "Master?"

"I need you to come with me," said Suk-kwon. "There is someone we must meet."

"What?" Yunbok said in confusion, blinking sleepily in the light and saw that his master was dressed for the outdoors. "Meet? At this time of the night?" he said incredulously.

"This is important. Dressed warmly and hurry, I'll wait for you outside."

"But..," Yunbok began to protest and he stared open-mouthed when Suk-kwon ignored him and went out the front door. What was going on? Reluctantly, he got up and put on a double layer of coats. At this time of night, he was certain to freeze to death. Pulling on his pungcha, he tied on his gat and then went to the door, grabbing his staff as he did so. With the chill, the paths would be slippery. The blast of cold when he stepped out was like a rude slap to the face. It woke him up thoroughly. Slipping on his shoes, he tied on an additional pair of snowshoes.

Looking at the darken house across the vegetable patch, he wondered if it was safe to leave the two women alone. But then who in his right mind would come wandering around at this time of night? No one except his master. Regarding the tall waiting figure in the courtyard sourly, he joined Suk-kwon and followed silently as the older man headed for the path leading down to the village. Clouds bellowed around them. Despite the layers of clothing he wore, Yunbok still felt the biting chill.

The village stood like silent ghostly edifices in the dark. Not a single light could be seen and he wondered where they were going. To his surprise, Suk-kwon turned for the farm fields. It was too cold to talk so he simply followed, snow crunching softly under their feet. Presently they arrived at one of the stable and storage barns along the perimeter. It was just as cold inside as it was outside for the ox the barn would have housed had been moved to the village for the winter. He watched curiously as Suk-kwon began to shift some bales of hay in the far corner. Then he bent down to pull something and to Yunbok's astonishment, a piece of wooden floor came up.

It was the trapdoor to an underground room, he realised. A flight of stairs led down and he could see light below. He stared at Suk-kwon when he whispered, "Go down quick."

"What..." Yunbok began but Suk-kwon grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him down the stairs. Stumbling down the steps, he glanced around. The floor was wood instead of soil, cabinets lined the walls, a candle stood burning on a large desk with writing materials and paper. Several cushions were scattered around it. A large brazier nearby crackled merrily, infusing some warmth to the room. "What is going on?" he demanded as Suk-kwon came down the stairs, closing the trapdoor behind him before removing his snowshoes. He gestured to Yunbok to do the same.

"We have a problem."

"We do?" What was his master talking about?

"Sit," Suk-kwon gestured to one of the cushions and sat down across from Yunbok. "You," he pointed at his apprentice, "are in trouble. Hyewon."

"I'm in..," Yunbok stared at Suk-kwon, feeling colder than ever before when he realised the older man had addressed him by his pen name. How did he know? How long had he known? Did he accidentally betrayed himself without knowing it. What was he going to do? Caught in a maelstrom, he didn't hear Suk-kwon.

"Yunbokya!" Suk-kwon reached across and clapped him gently on the shoulder, feeling the tremors of fear in him. Yunbok's eyes were round and terrified when he looked at him. "Calm. The first thing you have to know that I was in the Intelligence Service. I served his late majesty Yeongjo before I came out here, semi-retired."

"Semi-retired?" Yunbok eyed the older man up and down in disbelief.

"Yes, when joints began to creak like a door and energies are no longer what they used to be. I can't even jump as I used to," said Suk-kwon humorously but Yunbok didn't laugh. "I was given leave to go home but I'm still tied to the service so I know what happened to you. His majesty passed a secret order that you are to be protected. From since the moment you left Hanseong, you have been shadowed by a protector..."

"What?!" Yunbok could hardly believe his ears. Someone had been following him? "I..."

"Just listen," Suk-kwon said gently. "For a year, you shifted from province to province. Each time you did so, a new protector in that province was assigned to you. It is not an easy task for the mission they have to undertake is secret and only by those his majesty trusts. So you can imagine the problems that went on in trying to keep track of you and keeping everything under control. It was eventually decided that something had to be done and it was suggested that an attempt should be made to encourage you to settle in one place."

"That's you?"

"You were heading in my direction and I was already settled in. The task was given to me but I wasn't certain I would be successful. Fate decided to play its hand..."

"Wait..you said a protector was shadowing me all the while so why was I attacked in the forest?"

"He did not come to your aid because he was recalled to oversee an urgent task. By then, you were in the general area and he sent a message to me," Suk-kwon sighed as he recalled the moment he received the message and his annoyance at the late notification. "We were supposed to meet up so the handover would go smoothly. Instead, he left and I had to find you myself. It was like seeking dubu in the bean field, not the easiest of task but it was fortunate that I did, don't you agree?"

"Why...why didn't you tell me from the start?" Why did his master have to hide his real identity?

Giving Yunbok's shoulder another pat, Suk-kwon withdrew his hand and said musingly, "Because you trust no one. How would it help if I tell you the truth? You can't even verify if I am what I said I am. What would you have done? Knowing you, you would have tried to leave and that would make it worst. No. You were injured and you need shelter. Those were the two important things I have to see to. Trust can be built later."

"But you didn't even bother to tell me, did you?" said Yunbok. The shock and fear had passed but he still couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

"I left it well alone. You have settled in. I did not see the need to stir up further troubles," Suk-kwon paused before asking, "Does his majesty know your true identity?"

"Yes he does. So does the Queen Dowager but she only suspects, she has no proof."

"I see," Suk-kwon could see why his apprentice had to hide. "You have obscured yourself well so far."

Yunbok frowned. "What has changed?"

"It's something you have done," seeing Yunbok's incomprehension, Suk-kwon added, "Weren't you having problems with Young-joon's cousin?" The flash of realisation in Yunbok's eyes was quite revealing.

"No...no, she couldn't have...," muttered Yunbok, putting a hand to his head. How could he have forgotten all about that painting? Two thumps sounded overhead, startling him. "Who?" he started up as the trapdoor creaked.

"My senior. You know him," grinned Suk-kwon as he got up. Yunbok stared as old master Han came down the flight of steps and removed his snowshoes. He was Suk-kwon's senior? Would that mean he was also in the intelligence service? "Well, you old goat, a little late, aren't we?" Yunbok stared at Suk-kwon in amazement. Was that the way to address an elder?

"You have that right, you buffoon, when every living thing has withdrawn in this cold," old master Han said gruffily, nodding to Yunbok as he bowed. "Ah, my young friend, you have the knack for stirring up a storm wherever you go."

"Apologies, sir," muttered Yunbok.

"Sit. Sit," old master Han sat down behind the desk and pulled out a rolled up parchment from his sleeve. Spreading it opened, he gazed kindly at Yunbok. "This is your work, isn't it?"

The painting. How did he manage to get hold of it? "Yes, it is mine, sir," affirmed Yunbok.

"Did you give it to my niece?"

"No, sir...I..." How was he to explain it?

"I understand. My niece has explained how she came by it and the fault does not lie with you. However," old master Han sighed, "in her foolishness to know the person behind this painting, she has brought it to be verified at one of the art galleries in town."

That was as much as Yunbok had suspected. His shoulders slumped as he thought of the consequences of such an action. Old master Han reached once more into his sleeve, rummaged about and brought a seal box. Shock riveted Yunbok when he recognised the box.

"Sir, how..."

"She took it from your cabinet the day she visited the paper mill and stamped this painting. The seals confirmed this painting is authentic. The art gallery proprietor now knows that she has in her possession a new painting of Hyewon's."

His cover was blown. Truly blown. There was no way he could hide. Dimly, through the roaring in his ears, Yunbok listened as old master Han continued.

"According to my sources, the interest in Hyewon's paintings have not abated these past four years. It has in fact escalated. Part of this is due to your disappearance, driving up the prices of your artwork. The other, I am sure you are both aware, is the hidden agenda of certain factions to locate your whereabouts. All of your paintings done before your disappearance are well-known, having been replicated numerous times. This latest painting is going to focus attention here because tongues will wag, rumours will spread. The worst of it is that the proprietor of the art gallery my niece went to, is a well-known painting expert in this town. His words will confirm to many that you are here or have been here."

"What can I do?" Yunbok said numbly and then he answered his own question. "I have to leave."

"Do you want to leave?" old master Hans stroke his beard, looking at Yunbok.

If he were alone, he would say yes, he would leave but there was the matter of Jeong-hyang. She would refuse to stay behind while he continued his wanderings. He did not much like the idea of dragging her around with him into unknown dangers. Unless he secretively leave her behind. That would really break her heart. But then, he had not made up his mind about her.

"Are there other options, brother Han?" Suk-kwon knew what was going on in Yunbok's mind.

"As I see it. One option is to flood the market here and elsewhere with replicate paintings, all with fake seals. The other is to arrange Hyewon's death. The first option will rouse little to no suspicion because there are many opportunists who would exploit this rumor of a new Hyewon painting. The second will rouse much suspicion."

"Throw out as many paintings with fake seals," Suk-kwon nodded. "That would work."

"No," Yunbok said slowly, thinking hard as an idea struck him. "Create two sets of fake seals and use them on the replicates. The one painting with the so-called genuine seals will have a subtle error."

"Subtle error?" Suk-kwon repeated, puzzled. Old master Han nodded approvingly, grasping at once what Yunbok was suggesting.

"Hyewon has not been known to make errors in any of his paintings so this is a good way to throw them off the scent. Too, it will also cast doubts on the proprietor's initial assessment. The painting was in his possession for too short a time for him to even claim he made a thorough examination. If it is verified that neither set of paintings are genuine, it will cloud the waters even further. Should it be questioned on the method my niece has acquired the painting," old master Han smiled. "How does a suitor sound?"

"But wouldn't you have to come up with someone credible?" asked Yunbok.

"Not if it's a travelling young man who happened to be smitten by the sight of my niece at the temple," old master Han smiled at the look of discomfiture that crossed Yunbok's face. "I will tell anyone that my niece has given over the painting to me and that I have sold it to an anonymous buyer. This will also lend credence to the sudden number of replications hitting the markets."

"Sir, it might not be believed. Especially if it's under the assumption that the painting was a token of passion," pointed out Yunbok.

"That is so," old master Han nodded. "But they can assume I made a replicate of it and sold it."

"Still they will deduce she's holding on to the original and do something about it," Suk-kwon said ominously.

"Then they will go for it," old master Han said worriedly.

"She will have to be prepared." Suk-kwon looked at his old friend. "It is a risk, but we have to take it. I will station two of my men as servants in your house until this crisis is over." He paused, realizing he was taking something for granted. "Will you allow your niece to jeopardize herself?"

"I know my niece. At the moment, she is filled with remorse and wishes to make amends. If I don't allow her the chance to redeem herself, I'm afraid her guilt will never be expunged. She is most stubborn, I have faith she will be able to accomplish the task."

"But, still ...," Yunbok objected.

"No, Hyewon," old master Han shook his head. "She has to do this. I understand her temper too well. We will have to move fast. Here is your painting. You'll have to give me the replicate to take its place before I leave."

"Who will be carving the fake seals?" asked Yunbok, yielding to old master Han's decision.

"I will," answered Suk-kwon, pulling out a chest from under the desk. "I have the two types of wood: plain and sandal. Then there's black ox horn and stone. What type do you use?"

"My master, Danwon made the seals for me," Yunbok examined the uncarved seals. "They are of sandal wood. Oh, you have this this type of glass?" He picked up a magnifying glass from the chest. Picking up one of his own seals, he examined it minutely and then one of the unmarked sandal wood seal. "The difference will be this," he handed the glass and the two seals to Suk-kwon, then took a piece of paper and charcoal from the writing tool box and drew out the words. "If you make an etch here," he pointed.

"Hmm... that may do the trick," Suk-kwon agreed as he examined the seals and the drawing. "There isn't much time, this is the sixth day. You won't get much sleep tonight, rascal. I brought your painting tools so get to work," he pointed to the brush stand and painting tools in the corner. "If all fail. We'll see if we can do something with that second plan."

"Really, Suk-kwon, you are just as rude and juvenile as ever. Rascal? Old goat? Will you never grow up?" old master Han said disapprovingly.

"Same to you, buffoon. Really?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Dongji 1781**

**Hanseong**  
**Changdeokgung : Daejojeon**

It was still dark when the bells of the water clock in the palace began to tinkle thirty-three times. The sound of paru was quickly taken up by bells at the palace gates, the belfry on Jongro began to toll. This rapidly spread to the two great gates of the capital city and the four gates of the city, signalling the start of the day. Within the palace, servants hurried with the dozens of tasks they had to see to.

Outside the daejojeon, palace guards stood vigilant, court attendants waited dutifully outside as palace maids withdrew from the royal chamber, bringing away with them the used water and towels. In the chamber, all was quiet. The lone court lady attending the Queen Dowager carefully oversee her grooming. Once she had inserted the gold plated coral binyeo with a phoenix into the chignon, she withdrew a distance and waited.

Noting that she had not asked the requisite question, the Queen Dowager said in a cool voice, "There is something to report?"

"Yes, majesty. Our agent at Uiryeong has sent word that there are rumours of a new Hyewon painting within the region. He will ascertain the truth behind these rumours and will send more news soon."

There was no perceptible change in the queen's expression as she gazed into the mirror, turning her head to check the hair adornments but her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. After four years of silence, was it possible? "After so long, what has changed?" she murmured.

Not certain the question was addressed to her, still, the court lady dared to venture an answer. "Prices of paintings have been rising, especially those by Hyewon. Perhaps the lure of profit?" her tone raised slightly.

"From a young hayseed into an opportunist?" The queen was plainly amused. "It took him a little too long to morph as it is but who knows? Let me know the instant the agent's report arrives."

The court lady bowed as she she turned to the mieumsang to break her fast, her expression serene, her eyes hooded as plans turned over in her mind.

* * *

**Changdeokgung : Huijeongdang**

Later that day, in the eastern part of the palace, a middle age man strode with measured pace through the courtyard. Despite discreet calls from several groups scattered around, he inclined his head politely in acknowledgement but continued his march to the huijeongdang and came to a stop outside a chamber. The chief eunuch noted his arrival and went into the chamber to announce his presence. Presently, he emerged and murmured softly. Walking in with lowered head, the middle age man stopped several paces before the desk and waited.

"Danwon, I supposed you have heard."

"Yes, Majesty," Hondgo said apologetically without bothering to ask what was it Jeongjo was referring to. How could he not know with his friend, Yi-mun, talking about it that morning? How could he not with several colleagues from Dohwaseo asking him about it? Dismayed he might be at the complications this new painting of hers would rouse, yet he was also happy. Happy that at last, there was some news of his former student. It had lifted some of the weight he had been carrying for the last four years, not knowing whether she lived or died.

It was worrying news to Jeongjo. He did not doubt that Hyewon had obeyed his royal command and carried it out faithfully for the last four years. But now, something had clearly gone wrong. The lack of a clearer report from the agents assigned to watch her had been another point of anxiety but these were seasoned agents who had proven their mettle during his grandfather's reign. There was no reason not to trust their assurance they would resolve the problem. The greater problem however, was the man before him. A man whose affection for his former student had been clearly demonstrated in his actions.

Therefore he was not surprised when Hongdo spoke up, hesitatingly. "Your Majesty, with your permission..."

"No. I cannot allow you to leave," Jeongjo was sorry he had to deny Hongdo. "Your presence will only exacerbate the situation."

There was truth in that. If he went, it would only add fuel to the rumors. The search for her would intensify. "I... yes, I understand, your Majesty." Hongdo clenched his fists, angry that he could do nothing to help Yunbok. His vows to protect her was as empty as his heart. His only hope was that the fates would be kind and she would tide over the crisis safely.

* * *

**Han Residence**

When the gate servant announced there were visitors, old master Han was well prepared and received them cordially. The visitors looked very ordinary to him though dressed richly in silks. As befit their role as wealthy merchants, he supposed. Pleasanties and introductions were exchanged. The merchants swung into the purpose of their visit after a suitable interval of amiable dialogue.

Old master Han listened and then said regretfully. "That painting? Ahhh, my niece gave it to me. She said a traveller, a young man, presented it to her as a gift when she visited the temple delivering our annual donations. KNowing of my interest in paintings, she handed it to me. I can see it was a painting done by Hyewon."

"How do you know it was painted by Hyewon?" asked one of the merchants.

"The painting was stamped of course. Stating very clearly the painter's name. I hung it out in the daecheong and a business associates saw it and expressed a wish to buy it so I sold it to him."

The visitors exchanged suspicious glances that old master Han pretended not to understand. They had their doubts. They could look into his background all they like but they would find that he had no direct affiliations of any kind to anyone in Hanseong. His service to Yeongjo was one which would take more than the influence they had now to unearth.

"Who bought the painting? I'm afraid I don't know him very well, he was introduced to me by somebody else. His name was Byeng-sen I believe. He offered such a high price, I could not refuse him."

The merchants looked at one another, plainly trying to decide what they should do next. At some hidden signal, they thanked old master Han and took their leave.

* * *

**Pyohunsa Temple**

The visitors' demeanor was subtle, respectful as they waited patiently for his reply. "A traveller? We have many travellers passing through here, good sirs. Of whom would you be refering to?" Venerable Jae-seung listened inscrutably, his eyes taking note of his visitors. Rough hewned faces, dark and sturdy frames that spoke of strength. "Ah, the day when the Hans came here? Yes, there was a young man who passed through. He spent a night here and left the next day. He did not say where he was going. I think he said his name was Jin-ho."

The men listened, looked at one another before bowing. Jae-seung watched them as they left. He would have to do penance but preserving a life was more important than the lies he had to say.

* * *

**Han Residence**

Third watch. The nightwatch men swung their nightsticks lazily, chatting desultorily as they patrolled along the lanes of the residences. Unseen behind them, a dark figure slipped over the wall of the back garden of the Han residence. Like a ghost, the figure glided along the path, stopped to check there was no one about before entering the anbang. Pressing lightly on the doors of each room he passed, he stopped before one that did not budge. Taking a tool from his belt, he slipped it into the gap between the two panels and slowly worked the lock. Once he was certain the lock had been detached, he opened the door slowly and peered in.

Spotting the lone sleeping figure, he fished out a dagger and moved towards it. He shook the sleeper awake and clapped his hand over the woman's mouth before she could scream, making sure she saw the dagger in his hand. "Where is the painting you received from the young man at the temple?" he queried and loosened his hand.

"Paint...painting? What painting?..." Kyoung-mi quivered, not entirely faking her fear.

"Where is the painting? I will not ask again," the intruder warned.

"Th..there, in the drawer of my desk. Please don't hurt me," she begged, pointing to her desk by the wall.

"Where did the young man go? What is his name?"

"Go? I...I don't know ... he...he left the next morn...morning. He told...told me...he had some ...urgent business elsewhere. He said his name was Jin-ho."

"Stay silent and you will not be hurt."

He went to the desk and removed the rolled up painting from the drawer before leaving the room, with a vastly relieved Kyoung-mi sagging into her bedding.

* * *

**Uiryeong **  
**At a Art Gallery**

Standing outside his art gallery, the proprietor was busy directing the hanging of several paintings. This and that must be displayed just so, to attract attention and customers he told his workers. How else were they to earn their keep? Someone coughed behind him and he turned to see a well dressed man. His eyes lit up immediately at the potential customer.

Putting up a hand to forestall his sales pitch, the man handed a rolled up painting to him. "Is this Hyewon's work?"

The proprietor frowned as he held up the painting to the light and was astonished. Was this not the same painting that woman had shown him several days ago? "Yes, indeed good sir. It is Hyewon's painting." he affirmed.

"What about this one?" the man thrust another painting at the proprietor.

With a double take, the proprietor realised the paintings were the same. "But this..," he examined the two paintings and then looked incredulously at his customer. "But this is impossible..," he stuttered.

"You're going to tell me they're both Hyewon's drawings?" the customer interrupted.

"I'm... afraid so..." the proprietor said faintly as he looked at the two paintings agan. How could it be? He had handled many replicas and on a few rare moments, the original work of Hyewon. How was it that these two paintings were so alike? Of all the replicas he had seen, the present paintings in his hands were outstanding. The brushstrokes were so eerily akin to Hyewon's he could have sworn the artist himself painted them. But that was ridiculous. Why would Hyewon devalue his paintings? No, whoever the artist was, he was amazingly skilled. If so, why even bothered to paint replicas?

Before he could say anything, the man rudely snatched the paintings from his hands and stalked out of the shop. What was it with people nowadays? He shook his head and turned to contemplate the other paintings he had in his shop. If any more new paintings of Hyewon's appear, he would have to be extremely thorough in his examination for this latest incident would cast doubt on his proficiency in evaluating artworks.

* * *

**Changdeokgung : Daejojeon**

"I thought you said he was at Uiryeong?" The queen dowager did not look up from the book she was reading but her displeasure was evident.

"He was at Uiryeong but I think he has since left. The replicates are spreading too fast, everyone wants to earn what they could. We can't even be sure if there was an original. Some of the paintings are found to have errors," the court lady's mien was apologetic, as if she alone was responsible for the failure.

"Hmm...Hyewon and his women...," Jeong-sun flipped a page. "You did say that the painting was presented to the woman at the temple? She will still have the original. Her uncle would have sold off the replicate which in turn spewed the rest that spread out to the markets."

"That was what we thought too. One of the men recovered the painting from the woman. This was then presented to the proprietor of the art gallery along with another replicate. He could not even tell the difference! They are both Hyewon's works," disgust dripped heavily in the court woman's voice. "We have also asked the painting experts here to examine the paintings. The original that we took from the young woman appeared to have genuine seals but it was discovered later that the stamps are fakes. I don't suppose we can ask Danwon Kim Hongdo to verify the paintings?"

"It's an exercise in futility, do you think he will tell the truth?" the woman scoffed, the phoenix on the binyeo quivering as if in agreement with her assessment.

"No, I suppose Danwon will not be cooperative," the court lady agreed deferentially. "If I may, I believed that mistake by Danwon in the competition was deliberate. He had the foresight to predict the criteria on which the paintings will be marked on."

"Hyewon is noted for being a perfectionist, would he have...," Jeong-sun trailed off as she thought of something. "A deliberate error..." A long pause went by before she finally looked up. "I have to give it to Hyewon if he really uses this tactic. He may have realized the danger in giving that painting to the girl and tried to hide his imprints."

"But... why would he bother? Why even present that painting to the girl in the first place?"

"Ahhh, who knows what is going on in Hyewon's mind? Women, always women... look at all his paintings. Women are always the main subjects in his illustrations of the daily life of the commoners. Perhaps he was attracted to this girl. Heh, that would certainly put paid to my suspicion about him," lilt amusement in the Jeong-sun's sardonic smile. "But who knows? If he attempts this, that means he may still be in Uiryeong. I want that girl questioned further. In the meantime, have the purported original examined more thoroughly."

"Yes, your Majesty," the court lady withdrew swiftly to carry out the order.

* * *

Korean Words

_Binyeo - hairpin_  
_Daejojeon - Queen's residence_  
_Huijeongdang - King's drawing room, conference room_  
_Mieumsang - light breakfast served to the royal family_


	13. Chapter 13

**Dongji 1781**

As cold as it might be, it was great to be outdoors again. Sitting around the house and restricted to light chores had been grating on Yunbok's nerves. Jeong-hyang's music had helped alleviated some of his restlessness, he had painted as he had wanted albeit cautiously since Ae-young was around. However, their presence also emphasized the constraint on him and a reminder that he had to give Jeong-hyang a better answer than a acquiescence. An answer to a question he wasn't ready to deal with. Not yet. Not until the problem of the painting was resolved.

As Yunbok secured the wood on his jige, Chang-su came slogging through the snow to him. "Brother Seo, master Park asks that you wait here for him."

"Where is he?"

"Getting more wood over by that copse," Chang-su pointed behind him and then hefted at the load he was carrying. "We'll return to the paper mill, brother Seo."

"All right." Yunbok waved the rest of his colleagues off as they trudged down the trail. After they were gone, he double checked that the wood was properly loaded. Standing up, he looked at the copse and hoped Suk-kwon wouldn't take too long, they were overdue for a snack. Picking up his staff, he set to practising his moves. It had been some time since he had done his exercises. The bruises at his ribs had effectively curtailed such activities for quite some time. As his heart beat picked up, he felt enliven and was soon engrossed in the workout.

"Aaaahhhh!" The unexpected shout startled him for a moment and he turned in time to block the down swing of a staff. Suk-kwon grinned at him, retreated slightly and swung again. Back and forth they went as they exchanged blows with Yunbok dodging most of the time as he attempted to land a touch on Suk-kwon in any way he could. But his master was wily, as usual. Their breaths ballooned faster, like the puffs of horses in gallop. The snow around them became trampled as they went back and forth. Then with a sudden strike at the ground, Suk-kwon sent a plume of snow to smother Yunbok's vision and leaped forward. Everything stopped.

"Very good," he panted, looking down at the end of the staff touching his ribs. "That's a good strike."

"Thank you, master." Taking deep breaths, Yunbok stood up, brushing off the snow from his clothing.

"So do you think you are ready to take on the opposition?" asked Suk-kwon as he cleared the snow away from his trousers. Yunbok stared at him. "They removed the painting from the Han residence more than a week ago," he said softly. "A message pigeon was sent and a messenger came in yesterday."

"Is Lady Han all right?"

"She's fine. They didn't harm her, they were after the painting then but that's going to change this time," leaning on his staff, Suk-kwon eyed Yunbok closely. "It's your choice, you don't have to go. I've men stationed at the Han residence."

"I'll go. She has risked herself already..."

"It wouldn't have happened if she had more control over herself but," Suk-kwon put up a hand to halt Yunbok's retort, "we must be clear on one point. The opposition have no reason to hold back and every desire to succeed. You, on the other hand, have much to lose."

"That much is clear, master, but have you forgotten something?" Yunbok said somberly. "I may give my best and yet fall."

"That is true," Suk-kwon nodded. "I can tell you one fact however. Do not enter any battle under the assumption you would have tried your best. That is as good as throwing down your sword at your enemy's feet because already, you have fought and lost in your mind. You show disrespect to yourself and your enemy." The disquiet in Yunbok's eased somewhat at this. "Come," Suk-kwon headed to the jige left beside the trail. "We have to go Uiryeong tonight." Taking hold of Yunbok's jige, he held it steady as Yunbok pulled on the straps. "I've asked the ladies to prepare dinner early," he secured his own load and set off down the trail.

"How long do we have to stay in town?" asked Yunbok as he followed.

"We're staying at the Han residence," corrected Suk-kwon. "They could strike tonight, tomorrow or the day after."

"What excuse if we stayed more than a day?"

"Contract negotiation. We have not formalized one with Hansang. Now is as a good time as any."

It was hard work, carrying a load and slushing through the cold and snow. Conversation died away as they trudged down the trail that wound down the hills. It was late in the afternoon when they reached the paper mill. Offloading the wood at the woodyard, they set to stacking up them up to be used for the rest of the winter. With the end of the paper processing season, they could concentrate on the preparation of the underground storage and the straw for the thatch and other items. By the time they finished, the sun was setting.

With the women pottering around Suk-kwon's kitchen, Yunbok returned to his own house to wash up. He was not surprised to find a tub of hot water waiting for him in the aptoe. Flicking the water with his fingers, he stared at it for a long moment before shaking his head at the unsettled feelings within. Depositing his clean clothes on the cabinet, he cleaned himself up and felt better. Opening the window, he tossed out most of the water and emptied the tub. Rolling up his dirty clothes neatly, he stepped out into the daecheong and stopped short when he saw Jeong-hyang. Clearly, she had something to say or she would not be there, waiting for him. Crossing over to her, he sat down and waited.

"What are you and master Park planning?" Her heart sank when he avoided her gaze. Ever since that night of candid exchanges, they hadn't had much opportunity to have another conversation. When they did run into each other, his manner was often reticent. Even when she played her gayageum, she could sense he was restraining himself. It didn't give her much hope that he would relent from his path. "You have been on edge for several days," she said when he said nothing. "Something has happened, hasn't it?"

"It's just a little problem..."

"Painter." He winced at the reprimand and the hurt in her voice. "Why are you so adamant? Do you hold no dreams of us? What are you afraid of?"

He sighed. "The darkness I spoke of is near, you should...leave because I do not know if I can evade it." Her face paled as he looked at her despondently. "Did you hear what I said?" he said anxiously when she remained silent. "Hyangya, I thnk it's best if you return..."

"This trip to Uiryeong," she said, holding herself to calm with effort. "What are you planning?"

"A solution."

"And if it does not work?" The look on his face as all the answer she needed. For a moment, she wanted to tell him to run but recalled how stubborn he was in Hanseong when he set on the path of vengeance. Nothing would divert him once he had made up his mind. "I will wait here for you. If you do not return, then there is no longer any need to dream. Everything comes to an end."

A myriad of conflicting emotions assailed him as he watched her rise to her feet and walked away. He didn't know how he should feel. "What are you going to do if I don't come back?" he frowned when she continued on to the door. Fear seized him and he leapt after her. "What are you going to do?" he grabbed her hand and forced her to stop. "Hyangya!"

"I am sorry." The apology was unexpected. What was she apologising for? "I can not fulfill your wish. My happiness have been living in the knowledge that you were out there somewhere, free and secured in your future. I have harboured dreams and hopes that some day we will meet again. And we have. But...," she turned to him with tears in her yes, "you don't share in my dreams any more. You do not care to share yourself. Yet, I still hope. Now you tell me that you may not return. If you do not return, is there any need of my hopes? What is life without dreams?"

Shocked, he stared at her. "No, you can't mean...," he stammered and saw the truth in her eyes. "No, you can't! No, please no," he hugged her fiercely, frightened. "No, you can't, not because of me. Hyung died because of me. I can't have you doing the same thing."

As she held him, she could feel him trembling. "What are you afraid of, Painter?" she said softly. "I can feel it in you every time I see you. Or is it not fear at all, but shame?" she felt him stiffen and pushed him away. "You are ashamed of the feelings we have for each other."

Bowing his head, he whispered. "I don't know." Sinking to the floor, he huddled in on himself. "I don't know. When you were sold five years ago, I cried. My world fell apart, there was nothing to live for, I did not even want to complete a task his majesty had set me. I felt that life had become empty. When Kim Jo-Nyeon threatened to sell you to the traders in the gutters, I agreed to the competition to prevent that from happening to keep you safe. I let you go even though I could not bear to do so because I am a danger to you and I want you to find happiness. Now, now that you are back at my side again, I don't know... I love you and yet I do not know...why I am afraid. Perhaps you are right, deep down, I am ashamed of our bond because of what I am."

_He loves me._ To hear that from him was more than what she had hoped. Drying her tears, she dropped down beside him and touched his arm gently. "Painter."

He tried to hold back his tears but couldn't. "When I left Hanseong, my only thought was to keep the people I love safe," he closed his eyes as memories came flooding in. "I failed to do so with hyung and I vowed there must not be another. Master Danwon who was willing to give up everything for me. The King who spared my life even though my continued existence posed a threat to him, yet still he sought to protect me. I live to survive, I have no thoughts for anything. Even my dream of continuing my father's works is worlds away. He wanted to invent devices that would help the people around him and I never did any of that. I live from hand to mouth, one day by one day. I had the time and yet no time to think of anything."

He looked so lost and vulnerable that she clasped him in a tight hug, hurting for his pain, his sufferings, his uncertainties. "Painter, who are you?"

"I don't know."

"Do you know what you are to me?" she turned his head so he could see the truth in her eyes. "You are my Painter. Not just any painter. You are the one who sees my soul, who strives in everything possible and gives all to protect me. You are the one who fought for me. How can I do anything less? I love you with all my heart. You have given your compassion, your friendship, your skills to help those in need and spare little for yourself. You have not lived, you have only survived as you have now realized. It is time to change that. What you are is not important. What you make of yourself is. Discard your doubts and fears. You have already laid a new drawing block, Painter. Your own dream of helping those in need. Would your father be any less pleased that you found your own way?"

There was hope and belief in his eyes and yet she could see the fear was not completely dispelled.

"There will be other dreams to paint. Draw what you wish, your heart's desire. I will be with you, I want to be with you, to share your dreams, to strive with you, offer my support when you need it. Even though we live in the shadow of the sword that may fall, still, we have our dreams to make. Do not let fear take over our lives. Painter, pick up your brush and stride forth."

The edge of the precipice yawned beneath him. It infused terror in him and yet, the truth in her eyes beckoned to him. He took the plunge and expected to fall but her eyes held him. "I love you."

"Painter."

* * *

Later that evening, Suk-kwon couldn't help but scrutinised his apprentice curiously, wondering at the faint wan air about him. He had not failed to notice the absence of Jeong-hyang in the kitchen on his return to the house and surmised correctly that she was with Yunbok. He didn't know what transpired between them except that they had an air of determination about them, coupled with uncertainty when they turned up for dinner. Jeong-hyang looked anxious and it was obvious Yunbok must have told her the reason behind their trip to Uiryeong. To him, it was a good sign that Yunbok was going to accept her overture. If all turned out well, Yunbok would have a companion for the rest of his life. And he could rest easy too, for it would give his apprentice much needed stability and purpose.

They made it to Uiryeong in good time and made their way to the Han residence. There, a servant opened the gate to their call and they stepped into the courtyard to find old master Han and Young-joon waiting to receive them. Glad to see his friend had made a full recovery, Young-joon's bow to Yunbok was a little deeper than usual. Neither of them exchanged anything except pleasantries, being wary of eavesdroppers. Old master Han invited them to refreshments at the daecheong and conversation touched lightly on general topics. By the time they began the contract negotiations, curfew had sounded.

Yunbok listened as the two older men engaged in a clever discussion that went round and round the terms of the contract, seeming to engage in a amiable tussle of words to gain the best advantage. It was a ploy of course, to fritter the time away so they could have an excuse to stay at the Han residence. There was a little need for him to say anything and he smiled a little when Young-joon made a face at the long but necessary dialogue for he was obliged to write down the terms of agreement and he couldn't do that when they kept bouncing back and forth. Just when he thought it couldn't get any later, the two men seemed to come to terms. A copy of the contract was presented to Suk-kwon. Yes, he would finalise it the next day.

The expected offer of lodgings was given and accepted. With a sigh of relief, Yunbok trailed after Suk-kwon as a servant showed them to their rooms. There had been no sigh of Young-joon's cousin all night and he was glad. The guest room they were shown to was the closest to the women's quarters. Shaking out the beddings, Yunbok laid them them on the floor as Suk-kwon put their staffs beside each one. Taking off his gat, Yunbok sat down but did not lie down.

"Do you think they'll come tonight?" he whispered.

"Perhaps. I'll take first watch, you rest for a while," said Suk-kwon, leaning to blow out the candle.

It was rather pointless to argue so Yunbok lay on the bedding without bothering to take off his coat or cover himself. His mind went back again to that conversation with Jeong-hyang. She hadn't been happy that he had chosen to go but she could understand why he had to. This would be the make or break test for him. His master knew that too or he wouldn't have given him the choice. He didn't doubt that Suk-kwon would do everything in his power to ensure his survival. Yet, he knew he must pass this trial himself and he was more than a little afraid. Trying to maintain calm, he tried to think of other things.

Somehow or other, he must have fallen asleep for the next thing he knew, his eyes were opened. Did he hear a scream? He sat up but a hand slapped down on his shoulder. "Wait," whispered Suk-kwon as he reached for his staff. Another scream sounded. He scrambled to his feet, hearing the older man leaping for the door. It opened and for a moment, he saw Suk-kwon's shadow as he jumped out. He rushed to the main hall, nearly crashing into Young-joon running from his room, sword in hand.

They streamed after Suk-kwon, slipping their feet into shoes at the steps as fast as they could. Shouts and screams became louder and clearer as they ran to the small gate of the wall separating the anbang from the sarang. With a hard kick, Suk-kwon forced opened the gate and they ran into the inner courtyard to see two servants engaging three masked men with a broom and hoe. Suk-kwon and Young-joon waded into the fray as Yunbok looked around. The doors of one of the rooms was opened and he recognized Heon-sook, Kyoung-mi's maid, cowering in the room. There was no sign of Kyoung-mi as he ran up to her.

"Where's your mistress?" he asked urgently.

"I...I don't know. One of the men too...took her and ran over to the back garden," Heon-sook quivered as she pointed in the direction in which the men had gone.

"Master!" Yunbok waved to catch his Suk-kwon's attention, pointing to the garden, running after him as he went that way.

They reached the garden to see a masked man pushing a struggling figure over the wall before climbing over it himself. They gave chase and reached the wall in moments. Cupping his hands, Suk-kwon boosted Yunbok up and then jumped up himself. They dropped down from the top of the wall in time to see two men lugging a kicking form over to a horse cart.

"Stop!" Suk-kwon shouted. The men looked up, dropped their burden, pulled out their swords and advanced.

"You take the one on the right," Suk-kwon muttered to Yunbok before leaping for the man on the left.

Taking deep breaths to steady himself, Yunbok waited as his opponent approached. The other man looked steadily at Yunbok, trying to evaluate the opposition. His opponent was no peasant or someone in the heat of temper, Yunbok knew he was up against someone who had killed before. The eyes said it all. They also exuded impudence and amusement, clearly indicating his derision for the greenhorn he was facing. An accurate appraisement but then, he was not Yunbok who had everything to lose. Like a darting snake, so fast Yunbok almost missed it, the man lunged. The silent ones, were more dangerous, his master had said. He parried it and then another as the man twisted his sword into a slashing stroke. The sword seemed to flash like lightning as the man launched into a series of rapid strikes, feints and kicks, forcing him to retreat.

Fear raced up Yunbok's spine as he tried to control it. His chances of survival seemed rather slim as he kept retreating and dodging, constantly on the defensive. One wrong move and he would be skewered. Heart pounding madly, he was practically breaking out in cold sweat. Concentration was almost impossible, he was unhinged by conflicting anxieties. The focus he was reaching for kept slipping away. The sword slashed through his sleeve, almost slicing into his arm. Appalled, he withdrew several steps, panting.

Reading Yunbok's fear and lack of confidence, the man pressed his advantage. It was a mistake to let his opponent drive him like this, Yunbok realized. He was letting the other man control the battle. But he could not seem able to press forward himself. At this rate, eventually, he would fall. A thought crystalized in his mind at that prospect as he desperately fended off blow after blow, small chips of wood flew as the sword hacked away. If he failed, Jeong-hyang would end up losing her life too soon. She would die. All because of him. Anger took hold him. No. He would not let it happen. He had no chance to prevent Young-bok's death back then. This time, he had no excuse.

Fury and determination lent impetus and speed to his counter-attack, taking the other man by surprise. Again and again, he managed to land strikes on the man's torso, knowing he was successful when the other staggered back, hunched over in pain. Hold nothing back, his master had said, and he hadn't. Anger glinted in the man's eyes and he shouted in anger. That was when Yunbok knew he had won when his opponet made a mistake in his furious flurry. It allowed him to use a joint-lock on his sword arm. Even so, his opponent recovered swiftly and he kicked out despite the pain, forcing Yunbok to relinquish his hold of the staff.

Triumph blazed from the kidnapper's eyes. The staff fell to the ground and he propelled himself forward to finish off Yunbok. Rather than finding his target, he found himself flying through the air and landing painfully on the frozen ground, furious by the unexpected counter. By the time he got up, he found his adversary, whom he had dismissed as a lightweight, advancing speedily, staff in hand. Infuriated, he struck out with his sword and followed it up with a punch with his other hand which almost smashed into Yunbok's face. But in dealing out that strike in an attempt to knock Yunbok down, he had left himself open. Yunbok took the opportunity to land another hard blow with his staff on the ribs. There was a sound of breaking bones, the other man grunted in pain and fell to one knee. Yunbok lashed out without pause, the staff struck the man on the temples and he fell like a tree, his sword clattering nosily onto the ground.

"That was vicious, rascal," Suk-kwon said quietly. His opponent lay just as immobile. Although he had taken out his opponent earlier, he had stayed his hand, desiring to see how Yunbok would fare. Despite his anxiety, he wanted Yunbok to win this himself. He was pleased to see his apprentice had passed with flying colours.

"I'm too heavy-handed," Yunbok stared at his trembling hands and at his fallen opponent, breathing heavily as sweat steamed off him. Had he killed him? Bile rose in his throat. He turned aside and vomited. Hands patted his back as he emptied his stomach. Now that the adrenaline that had fired him drained away, he felt weak and sick. He had never felt like this, but then he had never faced an opponent whose intention was to kill.

"There's always a first time," Suk-kwon said pragmatically. "You were afraid, I know. And you were also motivated by the fear of lost. That's why you struck as you did. It happens to everyone, even me. I was so sick of what I did, I lay in bed for days."

"That's... you're exaggerating again, master," Yunbok laughed, wiping his mouth and scoping up a bit of clean snow to clean his hands, feeling slightly better though his hands still shook like leaves in the wind.

"Heh, if only you knew," Suk-kwon knelt down to examine Yunbok's adversary, pulling down the cloth that masked the face. "He's alive, rascal. But first, look upon him."

"Why? You think he will come looking for me?" Surely that was impossible.

"Maybe he will, maybe he won't," said Suk-kwon, looking down on the unconscious kidnapper. "You won't be seeing him anytime soon. What they did tonight is enough to get them several years of hard labour. It is prudent, however, to know their faces and remember them. Who knows you won't run into any of them in the future?"

There was sense in that so Yunbok scrutinised their faces carefully.

"I'll search them for other information they may have on them. You better check on her," Suk-kwon nodded towards the huddled figure by the carriage and Yunbok realised he had forgotten all about Young-joon's cousin.

Kyoung-mi sat on the ground, numbed with terror. Although she was prepared to try to delay the kidnappers, she had never envisioned it would be so perilous. The vicious fight she witnessed would remain forever delineated in her mind. She looked up as Yunbok hurried over. His smile of assurance was somewhat calming as he untied the ropes that bound her and removed her gag. His torn sleeve drew her gaze. How terrified she had been when she saw he was on the defensive and was almost cut down before her eyes before he rallied and defeated his opponent. It was all her fault, all her fault. That thought went round and round in her mind.

"I think she's in shock," Yunbok said to Suk-kwon as he came up to them, concerned as there was an almost blank look on her face.

"We better get her back to the house. These two aren't going anywhere, we can leave them here for a while," Suk-kwon threw his overcoat over Kyoung-mi. Gently, they helped her to stand and guided her to the door of the garden. An anxious Young-joon, with the servants came through the door as they approached.

"Is she all right?" he asked worriedly for his cousin looked daze.

"She's received a shock, otherwise I think she's uninjured," Suk-kwon said soothingly. "We have two unconscious men back there and a horsecart. Best to see to them and bring them in. You'll be notifying the authorities?"

"My father has already done so," Young-joon said. "I'll see to those two." He waved to the servants to follow him.

A almost hysterical Heon-sook was relieved to see Kyoung-mi who said nothing but let herself be settled down in her bedding. Old master Han was waiting at the daecheong, his eyes lighting up when he saw Suk-kwon and Yunbok. Their calm mien assuring him that all was well. In the midst of the debriefing, the constables arrived with an officer and removed all the kidnappers. Feeling that his study room would be more secured, old master Han changed the location of their discussion.

"They did as we expected," old master Han looked at Suk-kwon. "What do you think they would do next?"

"By now, they should become convinced that the original is a fake and there is no Hyewon painting at all. But, if that fails, then I guess we will have just have to kill Hyewon," Yunbok said soberly.

"We just have to wait and see," Suk-kwon grimaced. "I have to agree with old goat here that killing Hyewon is too drastic. It will be building a fire in the night."

"Then there is the other option," said Yunbok, wishing his master would stop calling old master Han an old goat. They might be old friends and colleagues but it was awful to hear the old man addressed as such.

"It is late and we're all tired. We'll continue this discussion later," old master Han said. Suk-kwon couldn't agree more and hustled Yunbok off to the guest room.

* * *

Korean Words

_Anbang - women's quarters_

_Aptoe - bathroom_

_Daecheong - main hall_

_Gat - horsehair hat worn by men, denied to slaves and lower uneducated classes  
_

_Jige - back carrier made of hard oak to carry grasses and wood_

_Sarang - men's quarters_


	14. Chapter 14

**Dongji 1781**

It was mid morning when every one was up and about. Over breakfast, Yunbok couldn't help feeling nervous when he learned that they were summoned to the magistrate's office. Despite Suk-kwon's assurance that his place and identity was solid in the local records, walking into the government offices took great effort. The soldiers looked especially alarming that morning. To his relief, the magistrate asked few questions of him. Being an apprentice and of no note, most of the questions were directed at Suk-kwon. If anything, the magistrate was somewhat cordial after establishing Suk-kwon's identity.

He was disturbed to learn however, that the man he struck down was still unconscious. A concussion, one of the officers explained when Suk-kwon make further inquiries. One that the kidnapper was expected to recover from. A relief to Yunbok. It was to be hoped that he wouldn't be involved in such confrontations again but if he was pushed, he could not afford to be merciful. After their statements were taken down, they were allowed to leave. When they returned to the Han residence, they met once more in old master Han's study room.

"I do not think they will make further attempts on your niece," said Suk-kwon. "It will lead to many questions and their agents might end up exposed."

Old master Han nodded in agreement, glad to put one worry to rest. "I believe they will continue to make discreet enquiries despite the number of replicates we have spread to other provinces. Uiryeong, after all, was the source of the rumours. Eventually, they will come to realise the hunt is futile when they turn up no further clues."

"And the dogs will go to sleep again," Suk-kwon said with relish and slappped Yunbok heartily on the back, almost pitching him forward. "You can rest easy."

"That is easy for you to say," he muttered before directing his next words to old master Han. "Sir, if I may be so bold. Could I have an audience with your niece? There are some matters that must be settled."

"Indeed," old master Han understood the young man's desire to clear up the air. It would settle Kyoung-mi's unhappy guilt. Calling in a servant, he instructed him to let Kyoung-mi know she had a visitor. After Yunbok had left, he couldn't help but asked his old friend. "Do you think he has a mind to offer for her?"

Suk-kwon almost laughed but he controlled the impulse and only shook his head. "I do not think so, old friend. He has already spoken for another."

"Ahh. My son had a quarrel with him over some woman, is it she?"

"It's a misunderstanding. I think they will settle it between themselves," Suk-kwon said unconcernedly. "Shall we settle the contract, brother Han?"

"By all means," old master Han pulled the scroll from one of the drawers in his desk.

Meanwhile, Yunbok followed the servant to the daecheong of the anbang and stood looking out across to the snow white garden as he waited. What would his world be like a year from now, he wondered. As optimistic as his master and old master Han might be, still, he had to consider that somehow or other, his trail might be picked up. If he had to go, he would miss his master very much. Between him and master Danwon, he couldn't ask for better guardians and friends. But unlike master Danwon, master Park was more of the father he never had. Someone called softly behind him.

He turned, saw Kyoung-mi and bowed. "How are you feeling?" he asked politely.

"All is well, brother Seo," Kyoung-mi wondered what he had to say to her, the shame of what she did still hung heavily on her.

"That was a brave thing you did last night, putting yourself at risk."

"You are too kind," Kyoung-mi winced to hear of his praise. She would have felt better if he had poured scorn on her. There was admiration for her in his eyes, something she had not wanted to see. Nor was it the desired emotion she wished to see. "All I did was to correct the mistake I have committed."

"Still, there is no denying your courageous act," Yunbok insisted, knowing she was still blaming herself for precipitating the crisis. "What's done is done, there is no point in self castigation. You should put this behind you and moved on.

"Your words are generous and kind, brother Seo. Is there anything else you want to tell me?" Kyoung-mi knew his visit had to be more than to absolve her of her guilt.

Reaching into the sleeve of his coat, he took out a handkerchief and handed it to Heon-sook who showed it to Kyoung-mi. She recognized it as the one she had put into the package she had presented to him before, in the hopes that he would acknowledge and accept the token of her feelings.

"The beauty and soul of this stitching is a wonder and joy to the one who can take it to heart," he said. "I'm afraid I have not the fortune to behold it. Please understand it has nothing to do with any recent incidents but in truth, my heart is already elsewhere long before we met."

"I understand, brother Seo," she smiled sadly. "I was too presumptuous and forward on my part."

"Please, do not be cast down by this. Someday, someone will appreciate the beauty of your creations." He half wondered what else he could say to reduce her sorrow but there was really nothing he could add to. "I will take my leave. Please do take care of yourself." He bowed before leaving with a light heart. She watched him go with heartache, wondering if there would be anyone to take his place.

As he made his way to the daecheong of the sarang, Yunbok spied someone sitting on the steps. Young-joon? His friend saw him the same time as he did and jumped up. Apparently, he was waiting for him. With some trepidation, Young-book made a deep a bow as he approached.

"Brother Seo, I must apologise for my ignorance and coarse conduct."

"Please, brother Han. The storm has passed, speak no more of it."

"Ahh, brother Seo, you put this one to shame with your generosity," a relieved smile lit Young-joon's face. "Indeed, I must try to follow suit. There is refreshments at the daecheong," he added, leading the way. Taking off their shoes at the steps, they sat down beside a soban placed in the daecheong. "I hope my cousin did not put up too much trouble," said Young-joon as he poured the tea.

"A mistake made is a notch in wisdom."

"I cannot argue with that, Young-joon sighed. "If I may ask a favour, brother Seo? Please convey my apologies to mistress Im. I will present myself soon enough to personally express remorse."

"I think you will find a warm reception," said Yunbok as he sipped the warm fragrant tea.

"So...when are you two going to...," Young-joon said hesitatingly and saw Yunbok's surprise. "I mean, have you consulted for a date?"

He meant a wedding ceremony, Yunbok realised. For a moment, he didn't know to say. It was all very well to accept Jeong-hyang into his life but to carry it out as far as that? It was completely unheard of. But then, no one knew his real identity and such a response was expected of him. It may what they had to do or the villagers would say something too. How Jeong-hyang would react if he tell her of this, he had no idea.

"Brother Seo?" Young-joon wondered at the look on his friend's face. Surely he was considering marriage, wasn't he?

Yunbok wanted to hide somewhere, if only to escape answering the question. "Ah...some time next year, I suppose," he said vaguely.

"Well then, you mustn't forget a red card for me," Young-joon exclaimed before a thought struck him. "Perhaps it would be better to put it till late of next year."

"Why is that?"

"It will be a difficult year, brother Seo," said Young-joon unhappily. "The crisis we feared is confirmed. There is word of food rationing to be in effect soon."

"When is life ever easy, brother Han?" Yunbok shook his head. "It matters not to us, we will see through this difficult period together."

"When you say it thus, I am most tempted indeed to look for that dubu in the field."

"You may find it yet, brother Han."

"A dubu?" They laughed. Just then, old master Han came out to the daecheong with Suk-kwon and the laughter caught their attention.

"There, back as they were," murmured Suk-kwon to his old friend before speaking in a more louder voice, taking his leave. Yunbok did the same, turning to old master Han and then Young-joon as he bowed and followed Suk-kwon to the gates. To be out in the streets again was a relief. It was as if a heavy load had fallen away. Going home had never seem more cheering when Yunbok think of who was waiting there. They made a brief stop at the market to buy some food and made their way to the town gates.

The happy air about Yunbok brought a smile to Suk-kwon for it dispersed that melancholy loneliness that hovered around his apprentice. It had vexed him over the last three years for he knew there was nothing he could do to dispel it. All he could provide was the security and comfort of a house, the ear of a father figure. To know Yunbok would not be lonely for the rest of life was more than he could hope for. "Well, rascal," he said as they exited the town and made their way to the path leading to the village. "It's time to make plans, isn't it?"

"Master?" Yunbok wondered what plans Suk-kwon was talking about.

"Since you have accepted Jeong-hyang, what are you going to do about her maid, Ae-young?"

Yunbok frowned. "Do I have to do anything about her at all? She can stay."

"That she can but you have to be careful around her." If Yunbok felt confident in handling her, then Suk-kwon could find no objection. "I'll add another room next to the aptoe. That," he added before Yunbok could protest, "will provide more privacy unless you'd like her to accidentally overhear conversations she shouldn't hear out in the daecheong."

As usual, his master was right but Yunbok didn't like the expense he was putting him through. "Oh yes," he heard him said. "Have you thought about the ceremony?"

Not his master too! "But...is it necessary?" Yunbok was dismayed. To do it was to contravene customs.

"You don't have to do it. All you have to do is move away, leave the village, leave Ae-young behind. Is that what you want?" Suk-kwon understood Yunbok's reluctance. "Yunbokya, just remember what you are now to the outside world. You have to conform to live in it."

Yunbok heaved a sigh. "A simple ceremony then, next year? I hear from Young-joon food rationing will take place soon."

"Very well," nodded Suk-kwon. "The villages will curtail their expectations accordingly once it is known. Come now," he slapped Yunbok's shoulder, "why put on such a face?" he laughed.

* * *

As the day wore on, Ae-young watched with perplexity as Jeong-hyang sat lost in her thoughts, the mending forgotten in her lap. The men had only gone to town to discuss business so she didn't understand why her mistress looked so anxious. Drawing her coat more closely around her, she wished her mistress would just wait in the daecheong instead of the porch. Surely master Seo would have wanted her to do so? Despite the coolness he had displayed since their arrival, he had thawed to show some affection last night. Something which she was glad to see, she had thought her mistress would be sorely disappointed in her attempt to change his mind.

True, he wasn't rich but he wasn't that poor either. Her mistress would not be grubbing in the dirt so she failed to see his objections. The houses at the paper mill were far different from those she had seen in the village. The roofs were thatched but the walls were not made of mud or logs but wood and papered over. The floor of all the rooms and the porch was wood. The furniture were well made and nothing was lacking. Such finish spoke of a stable livelihood, a steady income. What else is there to quibble about?

There was hardly a far better place for her mistress, herself. These few weeks had been peaceful, There were no amorous men to watch out for, unlike the gibang. This place had felt like home to her. A home she no longer had for her family was improvished and was forced to sell her as an indentured servant than to a gibang. Her fortunate fate that her previous employer himself had fallen into bad times and had simply turned her over to Jeong-hyang as a favour. He could have easily done much worse. A stir from Jeong-hyang distracted her. She watched as her mistress stood up and walked quickly to the courtyard as two men turned in. Ahh, they have returned. Smiling, she got up and went to the kitchen as Suk-kwon continued on to his house.

"What're you doing sitting out in the cold?" Yunbok couldn't help but scold as he offered his hand. The enormous relief and happy light in her eyes made him smile however.

Jeong-hyang was about it take it when she noticed something odd about the sleeve. "Painter!" she said in horror, grabbing the torn sleeve. "Are you hurt?"

"No. I'm all right," he grabbed her hand to forestall any more questions and started for the porch then pulled up short. "Where is Ae-young?"

"In the kitchen, master Park's house," she added, stifling her desire to check him over for injuries herself, as he looked this way and that.

"Right, I have something to discuss," he led her to his house and into the daecheong, gesturing to her to sit down.

"What is it?" she said in puzzlement as he paced round and round.

"It's...," he began and then didn't know how to continue. "It's..," he felt her stare and said in a rush, 'there are expectations of a ceremony."

"Ceremony?" she repeated and then she laughed. He stared at her.

"What're you laughing at?"

"Why are you worried about it? It's the natural course, isn't it?"

He sat down slowly. "You were expecting it?"

"Painter, we are not alone here, by ourselves," she said gently. "You have established a respected presence among the people here, there are expectations."

"Then you do not...object?" he sighed when she shook her head. "I didn't think that far.."

"You have other problems to settle," she said. "They are settled I hope...," her voice trailed off when she saw his staff he had unknowingly brought into the house. The state of it shocked her. "What...," she began to pull it over to have a closer look.

"No, it's...," he tried to get it back but she held on to it firmly.

"Painter, you never told me," she stared in horror at the deep gouges on the wood. "What were you doing last night?!"

"It doesn't matter, I'm here, aren't I?" he said evasively.

"How often is this going to happen?" she asked, face pale.

"It's not like likely to happen again. Master Park said they're not likely to look for me since they have no idea where to start. You could ask him," he said earnestly when she stared at him disbelievingly. "All I have to do is just continue as I am." Seeing that she still didn't quite believe him, he decided to change the subject. "I'm thinking of making that paper compressor."

"Paper compressor?"

"Wait," he went to the cabinet of his room and removed a dusty book. Brushing off the dust, he was glad to see it had no suffered much damage and returned to the daecheong. "Look, Hyangya, these are the machines my father designed," he showed it to her.

"They look so complicated." she peered at the book and marveled at the illustrations.

"He designed these machines so that they can benefit the people but he did not have the chance to put them to use. He only succeeded in making the paper compressor at one of the paper mills near my old home. Look," he pointed to one of the designs, "this is to measure and record distances. This one is a lifting system for heavy loads. Hmm...I seemed to have seen this somewhere."

His lively interest in the possibilities of the designs pleased her very much for it bode well for the future. "There are so many," she turned the pages. "A lifetime of possibilities for you to explore."

"Winters will be filled," he agreed as his head began to fill with visions.

"Can you promise one thing?" she said suddenly. "I know I cannot stop you when you are adamant on facing the shadows. But would you..," her eyes dropped to his slashed sleeve. How was she to phrase it? It was so difficult.

Dropping the book, he drew her close. "It is because of you I am here now. Without you, I would not have the courage to be what I am, to fight to live. You are my life. I will always come back to you."

"That is a promise."

"It is a promise."

* * *

**Changdeokgung : Daejojeon**

The news was not good. The court lady knew that and yet she couldn't keep it from her mistress. "Our men failed to interrogate the girl. Apparently, her uncle set up extra precautions after the last break-in. All our men were captured and handed over to the militia," she said softly, almost whispering for fear of waking the tigress.

"And?" the queen dowagers's expression did not change. Hard of stone, even the passage of water would take a hundred years to etch a groove.

"They were sentenced to hard labour when it was determined they were guilty of attempted robbery and kidnapping. None has given us away."

"That's that then," the queen said dismissively. "See to it that their families are recompensed. Has a final conclusion been reached regards that painting?" Still no change in the her mien. It was as if she  
expected such an outcome.

"The result was just given to us. Out of a panel of twenty painting experts from various districts, it is their judgment that the painting is a fake," the court lady wondered if this next bad news would excite her mistress.

"How did they come to this decision?" The queen closed her eyes. A fake! How long was that fellow going to hide? He was a pesky splinter that begged to be pulled to get rid of yet another bigger splinter that was day by day, steadily entrenching in a position difficult to extract from.

"Firstly, Hyewon is known for the delicacy of his brushstrokes. The panel has found that although the lines appeared to be unabridged, there are in fact, too many caesuras. Secondly, when they examined the seals, they found that the weave of the seal imprint does not conform to the type Hyewon uses." Silence. It stretched for such long moments that the court lady wondered if her mistress was too upset.

The ice in the queen's voice could freeze the tea in the cup sitting before her. "I see. What can you determine from this?"

"Our only surmise is, what if the original is not even from Hyewon himself?" the court lady answered cautiously. "There are many painters who admire and try to emulate him. Might not the original be a

case of an expert counterfeiter who's out to impress the young lady?"

"With seals that close to being mistaken as genuine?" a finely groomed eyebrow lifted before dropping back down. "That seems like a lot of effort. But still, Hyewon's artworks do fetch extraordinary sums nowadays. Temptation is great. Very well," she conceded. After all, what else could she do? "Scout around the districts near Uiryeong though I doubt they'll find anything but those replicates."

"Yes, your Majesty," the court lady withdrew with barely hidden relief.

It was just a matter of time. Eventually, he would turn up again. She was sure he was at Uiryeong for a little bird had sung of a certain painter's visit to the huijeongdang. Should she put more credence into

this? He was so fond of having that painter around him, stoking his passion for the arts. She looked at the painting on the poryo beside her.

_Hyewon, you can't hide forever._

* * *

**Changdeokgung : Huijeongdang**

Rolling up the scroll, Jeongjo held it to the candle. Carefully, he held the burning paper over the ashtray, making sure everything was burned before scattering the ashes. He nodded to the eunuch who summoned Kim Hongdo, waiting outside. Hongdo bowed as he came in and sat down. Jeonjo dismissed the eunuch before shifting his gaze to Hong-do's face, noting the fatigue and shadows around the eyes.

"Danwon, I summoned you to tell you the crisis is past."

The dark clouds hovering over Hongdo, lifted. "Your Majesty is gracious. I am glad to hear to hear that."

"You can rest easy now," Jeongjo smiled at the rapid change in Hongdo's countenance.

"Yes, your Majesty. These few weeks have been difficult. I... don't suppose I can request leave to pay her a visit?" Hong-do asked hopefully.

"It is not time yet, Danwon," Jeongjo shook his head. "You are still under their surveillance, I cannot risk it. But, Danwon, I can promise you. You will see her again."

* F * I * N * I * S

* * *

Miscellanous : Korean customs/furniture/accessories

_Aptoe - a small wooden enclosed ledge for washing of hands, etc_  
_Baeja - vest_  
_Candle : only used by wealthy families_  
_Chima : skirt worn by women_  
_Clan villages : a setup of families of the same name / blood relations_  
_Coat rack : used by both men and women to hang their clothing _  
_Daecheong - main hall, exists in both men and women's quarters. Usually used to receive guests or to hold important occasions_  
_Daeseol : time of the month of heavy snow (Dec 6 Gregorian calendar)_  
_Dongji : time of the month when days are short, nights are long (Dec 22 Gregorian calendar)_  
_Floor finished : in houses of wealthy families, the floors are covered with thick oiled paper. Sometimes, silk or oiled cotton are used. _  
_ Pine cones, gingko leaves and pine-bark powder are also used to imbue colours and polish._  
_Gat : horsehair hat. Usually restricted to scholars and members of the nobility/Yangban but became common in later Choson. Slaves were not allowed to wear this_  
_Iljumun : gate to Buddhist territory_  
_Ipdong : onset of winter (Nov 7 Gregorian calendar)_  
_Jangdokdae : raised platform on which earthenware jars used to store sauces and other food are placed_  
_Jeogori : upper part of women's clothing, blouse-like with long sleeves_  
_Jung bong : Middle staffs, can be used singularly but mostly dual_  
_Kobi / maiil holder : a flat wooden wall hanger to store documents or letters_  
_Jige : back carrier made of hard oak to carry grasses and wood_  
_Patjuk : red bean soup, usually eaten in winter. _  
_Poryo : mattress size cushion, used for sitting / naps, not for sleeping at night. Usually accompanied by a back cushion, square_ _arm cushion and long arm cushion. The long arm cushion can only be found in men's rooms. These items were used only __by wealthy families for greeting guests._  
_Segregation : at the age of seven, boys and girls are separated. They will then stay in the men or women's quarters respectively_  
_Seodang : village study hall_  
_Small gate : men and women's quarters are usually separated by walls. Small gates remained opened even during the night and are used_ _for entry/exit from women's quarters_  
_Soban : small tables used for meals. Men and women do not eat at the same time or use the same table_  
_Study room : rooms in the men's quarters used by the master, sons_  
_Sujeonggwa : wintertime punch made of ginger, cinnamon sticks with dried persimmons_  
_Tri-level shelf : only used by men in their study rooms_


End file.
